


Batman v Superman: Dawn of Justice (alternate)

by adkal



Category: Batman - Fandom, Batman v Superman: Dawn of Justice, Superman - Fandom
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-23
Updated: 2017-10-30
Packaged: 2019-01-21 16:43:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 9
Words: 64,000
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12461778
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/adkal/pseuds/adkal
Summary: An alternate take (started prior to seeing the movie) prefaced by an alternate take on aspects of Man of Steel (so basically a sequel to the version of MoS I wrote but incorporating aspects of the new movie (some dialogue, for example)).





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This is an alternate take (started prior to seeing the movie) prefaced by an alternate take on aspects of Man of Steel (so basically a sequel to the version of MoS I wrote but incorporating aspects of the new movie (some dialogue, for example)). As such, certain references made in this fic refer to that alternate take and certain points which will be used in the movie are not used in this approach – for example, the new movie cites and uses Zod's body however, in my 'alternate take' of MoS, Zod was never killed and is back in the Phantom Zone.

August 1977

An IBM 1130 mainframe computer, located in the Perkins Observatory in Delaware, Ohio, processes incoming data from the Big Ear radio telescope. At 22:16 EST a vertical alphanumeric sequence is recorded.

* * *

15 years ago

As part of a regeneration project in the late 80s, a number of warehouses along the docks of Metropolis' east side were converted to provide mixed-use accommodation for small businesses – the lower areas were workshops and shop-fronts, with the upper area providing living space for the business owners. When newer developments began opening up closer to the centre of the city in the 90s, the East Side had seen better days, with many of the buildings either abandoned or scheduled for demolition. At the turn of the millennium, the rents for the ones still standing are just about affordable for those who don't mind the company of rats and so on.

In the middle of what councillors called 'an eye-sore' is a building which is slightly different to those around it. It doesn't look different but there is 'something' about it – something that makes even the rats and foxes avoid it. Parts of it have been hollowed out, with a series of workshops now combined into one large one. On the quiet workshop floor roams a small robot, its head rotates constantly as it moves, dashing between tool cabinets and objects of various shapes and sizes covered in tarp or plastic. Overlooking the floor area are a number of windows – the living areas in this block have been converted and some of them have been removed and a series of bridges criss-crossing fifteen feet above the workshop link the remaining ones. All but one of the windows are dark.

The room is dimly lit and very tidy, for the most part, with the main 'mess' being the odd laptop on the floor, and the bundles of cables snaking around the walls and ceiling. On various tables are a number of devices and engines in different states of completion. Next to each device is a notepad open to either a hand-drawn blueprint or a page of calculations.

A frustrated young man (looking to be in his late teens) kicks himself away from the computer array he was working at and roars. He gets up and begins pacing the room, holding his head in his hands and then tugging at his lank hair, muttering. He stares up at the ceiling, breathing in slowly and deeply, and then, his shoulders slumping, he sighs and turns back to the seven computer screens arranged as a curved heptagon, arcing over the desk. Most of the screens display star maps, one has a feed from SETI, one doesn't seem to be switched on and, instead, has a printout taped to it, and the others have various programming languages highlighted and annotated.

Several screens on another array flicker, catching the man's attention. A string of code scrolls along the bottom of an otherwise empty screen and he frowns as he reaches for an open can of energy drink. He takes a gulp, swallows and his eyes widen when he sees what is now on the screen:

' _Hello._ '

He smiles.

* * *

10 years ago

**Junior's Gamble Pays Dividends!**  (online video-article)

After his father's sudden passing a few short years ago, Lex Jr stunned business experts across the world when he began divesting from two of the key components on which his father had made his fortune.

"My father was a smart man," said Lex Jr, shortly after taking the reins of LexCorp, "and I have to be smarter and work harder. LexCorp set the foundations for what we're aiming to do, and my father's legacy will never be ignored, but foundations have to be built upon and that's what we're going to do."

When the expected bids and proposals for the oil exploration contracts in the Mediterranean and the fracking in Canada never materialised, share-prices in LexCorp fell and analysts speculated on a series of liquidations of the company and its various subsidiaries. Barely weeks later, as Stagg continued to celebrate its winning bids, the first version of Lex/OS was announced.

"Nearly everyone told me it was foolish to keep it a secret, but the truth is that in this day and age secrets are hard to keep. There's always someone out there, somewhere, who knows something you hope others won't find out about – until you're ready for them to, of course. Lex/OS was something I was working on before my father passed away, and it's sort of my gift to him and a hope to make the world a better place."

The first version of the new operating system was geared towards medicine and the various fields of science in general, an approach some considered foolish and short-sighted. "Some things have to start from the top down," said the young billionaire-inheritor when asked why the OS wouldn't be immediately available to the general public. "I felt that the more right things could be in these areas then the easier, and more intuitive, we could make our systems for the general user. There was no need to compete with the established powerhouses, I wanted to do something different. In chemical engineering, for example, there are all sorts of aspects of applied mathematics, thermodynamics and so on in order to achieve what is required, whether it's a synthesis for a new kind of polymer or the development of a catalytic convertor – all models and formulae which can eventually be filtered down to use in the home, from which route for the school run would be the most efficient time-wise or fuel-wise on any particular day, to what meal could be made with the ingredients to hand.

"Lex/OS isn't just an adaptive system – it learns and encourages. When you're putting together a report or a presentation it can advise you on format and the words and approach you should use, based on what you've done before and who you're writing for and so on."

When asked about the military applications, Lex was even more forthcoming:

"I'm a patriot, plain and simple, but I'm  _also_  a human being, and I saw what was happening out there in the defence of our people, and for the world. I saw what was happening and I knew it wasn't right. The intentions of our men and women – the intentions of those willing to put their lives on the line for us – they were and are good and noble intentions, but mistakes kept being made and innocent people, on both sides, were being harmed and innocent lives were being destroyed. One of my key aims in creating Lex/OS was to help minimise, and maybe even eliminate, that kind of thing from happening.

"Drone surveillance is reliant on human observation in making the call to fire missiles, Lex/OS does the calculations the human eye often can't or, in some cases, the person  _won't_  and can counter or advise against a firing command. Of course, this can be overridden but, with military actions being pulled towards being more transparent, I think Lex/OS will help in making the right choices."

The announcement of a new version of Lex/OS has seen share prices in LexCorp soar, with some analysts being so bold as to suggesting valuations of almost 500% of the highest valuations during Alexander Luthor's time as CEO – which would make the conglomerate break into the top ten in the world, a feat never achieved by Luthor Sr.

* * *

5 years ago

It's a pitch-black and cloudless night, and a solitary beam of light shines out over Gotham City. Red and blue lights flash along various intervals in the streets below but the city is quiet. A heavy-set man, wearing a dirty beige trench coat and a fedora, and smoking a stubby cigar, stands on the rooftop of Gotham Central. He looks at his wrist watch and grunts.

'You know you can always come back, ya freak,' he mutters. 'We're still going ta need ya.'

He steps to the low wall at the edge of the rooftop and looks down at the street below. It's full of police cars, and he can see officers hauling in dozens of men – some are suited and some are more 'street', but all are quiet and subdued.

A flapping sound catches his attention and he turns quickly, a smile tugging at his otherwise grim mouth, and then he sighs, disappointed.

He reaches out and pulls the lever on the massive spotlight he had been standing next to. The rooftop darkens.

'Cover her up,' he says to one of the officers standing further back on the roof. 'It's over.'

* * *

3 years ago

Lucius Fox's office isn't located quite where you would expect. The main building for Wayne Enterprises – the corporation of which Mr Fox is CEO – is situated in the heart of Gotham's Financial District, and provides a view over most of Gotham City. As nice as Mr Fox's office is, it overlooks areas of Gotham his peers at Davenport and other companies would rather not have: in the distance, to the near left, is the Tri-Gate Bridge, leading out to the old power station and, further up, the airport; but if you squint, and look slightly to the right of the bridge, you can see the sewage works and, at times, steam.

'Please don't take this the wrong way but the work Wayne Enterprises has done these past two years...well, it would be a shame for it not to advance. Mr Fox, I truly believe a partnership with LexCorp would aid both companies and change and enhance the world in so many ways.'

'I appreciate that, Dr Teng, and your work in bioengineering is highly regarded by our teams here, and I  _am_  intrigued that a company as tech-oriented as LexCorp now is was able to entice you, but Mr Wayne made things very clear: Wayne Enterprises, nor any of its subsidiaries, will consider any military contracts or collaborations of this kind.' He leans back slightly. 'That is in the past.'

Dr Teng smiles and says, 'Respectfully, it may be in the future, too.'

Lucius sits forward, his hand clasped together for a couple of seconds as he looks at Dr Teng over the tops of his glasses. He stands up and picks up the document that had been in front of him, gesturing to the door with his other hand. 'Our shareholders have seen considerable increase in both dividends and public confidence since we moved away from certain defence contracts, as you well know. I doubt they would want to jeopardise that. Perhaps somewhere like Stagg or Davenport would be more amenable to your proposals.'

Dr Teng stands up and holds out a business card: 'In case you change your mind. Mr Luthor told me that there was no point in trying to convince you to leave Wayne Enterprises, but he wanted me to make sure you knew the offer of us all working together is going to always be open. We can change the world, Mr Fox'

Lucius smiles and takes it from him. They walk out of the office and Lucius' PA steps over and asks Dr Teng to follow her to the reception area. Lucius watches the elevator doors close and tosses the card in the bin. It shimmers.

* * *

18 months ago

Secreted in the Rocky Mountains is a massive bunker housing a robotics and cybernetics research and development facility. The walls are lined with screens displaying the landscape outside and, at the moment, they show the occupants of the bunker – if they choose to look – that it is nearing sunset. Mechanical arms move about in a loading bay, lifting and sorting through large palettes and drums. Technicians are tucked away in various labs and work rooms, engaged in numerous projects:

Cybernetic eyes loaded with interchangeable cameras that can see across 'invisible' areas of the electromagnetic spectrum;

Spinal columns that can interface with an organic nervous system shift and 'roll' a set of shoulder blades and then raise and lower the shoulders, as if they are shrugging;

Worker bees with remote controlling systems dash around a vast greenhouse, stopping in their tracks in unison, hovering, then coming together as a swarming mass before suddenly dispersing and collecting pollen;

Arms like pistons, their short-range movements a blur, pounding into reinforced concrete, before suddenly shattering;

Robot legs moving through pressurised water tanks simulating the conditions of the ocean, bending as the conditions become too much for the metals;

Liquid metal being poured and shaped while probing lasers scan the molecular structure and display the results, and the errors.

In the lower regions of the bunker are a series of vaulted areas. The corridors are well lit but there are no human personnel; instead, various kinds of wheeled-robots and hovering drones roam them, all mounted with cameras that seem to transmit to nowhere. There is a persistent humming in these corridors – separate from the whirring of the robots and drones – and it's why human access is limited in this part of the complex: the humming has been known to induce nausea, at best, and psychosis, at worst.

In the vaulted rooms are hundreds of servers, with small robots running maintenance routines on them. The servers are silent, soothed by a vast network of coolant systems, but LEDs flash on and off constantly, shifting the colours of darkened rooms. Each server room has dozens of television screens lining the walls, each tuned to a different channel and a different network. Every broadcast from across the globe is received here.

Screens flicker and the transmissions are interrupted. A high-pitched sound fills each room and the small robots stop in their tracks and vibrate, almost restlessly. Several of them explode and fall onto their sides.

_'You are not alone...'_

In a separate room, with screens filled with code, the broadcast triggers certain servers – dozens of alien languages stream across every screen, slowly shifting to Kryptonian. One of the screens flickers and begins scrolling through various star systems, faster than the eye can see. It stops and a narrow band appears on the side of the screen, identifying the image, in various languages, as the " _Rao system of sector 1003_ ". Another word appears: " _Anomaly_ ".

Out in space, the Black Zero begins to move away from its synchronised orbit around the moon.

* * *

_'I have journeyed across an ocean of stars...'_

Alarms are ringing. Everything is spinning. Sky and water, and water and sky. Round and round, and over and over.

High in the sky, a fighter jet tumbles and spins, battered by waves of energy. The right wing cracks and peels and the jet jerks in its spin as its new shape acts as a counter. An engine flares and then explodes, pushing the jet head over heels.

Alarms are ringing and the cockpit is on fire. The snapped eject-lever bounces around and the dashboard sparks. Everything is spinning. Beyond the spinning there is a young woman flying.

Fire and sky and water and a young woman.

* * *

_'He will look like you, but he is not one of you.'_

Metropolis – a dozen men are visible on a wall of screens, and another half dozen military personnel are in the room. A bald man, who looks to be in his late 40s or early 50s, wearing a lab coat over an expensive suit, speaks:

'This is a time to put aside any and all differences. This isn't about money or – the whole damn world is at stake!' he says, pounding his fist into his palm. 'If this "Kal-El" fails – or if he turns, as some of our analysts suspect he will – then we have to rally and take the fight to them. We have to be ready.'

He gestures at one of the screens and says, 'Mr Fox, the alloys-'

'Have been made available,' answers Lucius.

'And Stagg, Queen, Kord and LexCorp-'

'Adjustments to munitions and on-site updates and modifications to delivery systems are being carried out as we speak, Mr Shugel,' says Stagg, a hard-looking man with thick eyebrows and dense grey hair. 'But-'

'But we need time,' mutters Shugel. 'I know.' With pursed lips, he looks at the various feeds being shown on another wall of screens. 'Let's see if Kal-El can buy us some.' He turns to one of the military personnel and asks if the energy weapons stored on the warships in the Indian Ocean have been authorised for use.

'As of ten minutes ago. The jets should be ready for take-off in another ten.

'And how long before we're ready to approach Metropolis?'

'Wayne-Tech have already arrived at base with a transportable foundry and-'

'How long?'

'We need at least half an hour to coat the missiles,' says Lucius.

'And flight time is fifteen minutes,' says one of the military personnel.

Shugel frowns and looks at the floor for a couple of seconds, and then nods. 'That should give him time to deal with this 'World Engine' and double back.'

'Sir, we don't know if he's fast enough to-'

'He is. What we  _don't_  know is if he can survive the Engine. What we hope is that the Wayne-alloys can give us some bite.'

He turns to look at the news broadcasts being displayed on some other screens. All of them show the Black Zero hovering over Metropolis' Financial District, dwarfing the towers beneath it. Helicopters circle it, with a few edging closer and closer.

A strange whining sound begins to fill the room and the glasses partially filled with water begin to hum.

'Oh no,' says Shugel, staring at the televisions screens.

The Black Zero triggers and the room shakes.

* * *

_'...watch this world suffer the consequences.'_

Bruce Wayne dashes out of a hotel lobby, his phone pinned to his ear, allowing the terrified crowd to carry him. He looks down the wide street and, in the distance, he sees the Black Zero and the massive beam of energy being emitted by it. His eyes widen and a gapes for a second.

'Bruce!' he hears on the phone, and he turns and hunches slightly, resisting the pushing of the people around him.

'Dick, get Barbara out of there!' he shouts down the phone. The line crackles as the Black Zero emits another pulse.

'...can't. The tremors shifted the support beams. It's too unstable.' Bruce shakes his head as he hears Dick's words.

'Get to the east stairwell,' he says, standing straighter. The crowd has begun to thin around him and he starts to walk towards a large car. 'Get  _everyone_  over there.'

'Already done. I plugged into the PA system. They know where to go. Security know what to do, and we've gotten most people out.'

'Then you two get there, too!' Bruce shouts down the phone. His jaw clenches and he pushes his hand through his hair, looking around himself in frustration. The street is blocked with cars and people. Alfred stands next to him, his face ashen as he leads him to the car, and Bruce smiles weakly and nods.

'We can't, Bruce,' says Dick, softly. 'I'm serious.'

'You can!'

'We got pulled into the panic room.'

'You designed it! Get out of there!'

'It's blocked from the outside. Don't worry, we're okay. We can wait this out.'

Bruce looks at the Black Zero and sees it send out another pulse. A few seconds later the ground shakes, the road heaves, and people scream.

Bruce holds Alfred steady and the tremor passes and the two men look at each other before Alfred gives him a firm push in the direction of the alien ship. 'I'm on my way, Dick,' he says into the phone, and he begins to run, jumping on to abandoned cars and making his way around the mass of people heading towards him.

'God speed,' whispers Alfred.

A screeching sound pierces the air and a fighter jet streaks from the sky, trailing smoke, and slams into a building. Bruce leaps into the air, tucking his legs close to his chest, just as the jet explodes. The force of the explosion pushes him into the side of an idle truck, before he lands on the roof of a car. Dust engulfs the road, and Bruce looks around, groggily, then falls unconscious and off the roof.

* * *

A low, mournful sound sweeps across the Grecian-esque courtyard and, within seconds, dozens of armoured women pour out of several buildings and run, at an incredible pace, through a dense forest to the base of a blue and black crystal mountain. Carved into the mountain are series of gates; some small and almost unnoticeable, while others are big enough for the fuselage of an A380 to fit through. Carved above, around, or on the side of each gate are a series of symbols and words, some of which begin to glow.

'Stand ready at the gates!'

* * *

Bruce snaps awake, his ears ringing and his vision blurry. A few people hold out their hands to help him up and he lets them pull him. He stumbles a little and holds up his hands, smiling and nodding. He squints and touches the back of his head and then stands taller and broader.

'No,' he whispers, as he steps to the side and sees the wide ruined space that used to be filled with neck-achingly tall buildings. In the sky, more than a mile up and more massive than any of the buildings that used to be below it, the Black Zero hovers, turning slowly, as if passing a glance over everything around it.

'It's over,' whisper some people to each other, as they edge closer to the edges of the destruction zone. 'They stopped him.'

'They changed their minds.'

'But are we safe?'

'They're going to leave, right?'

Bruce looks up and sees Superman flying towards the Black Zero, holding a smaller spacecraft aloft. Another Kryptonian – Dev-Em – floats down and they pause for a moment before Superman continues upwards and Dev-Em continues to descend.

The streets are quiet and people are edging out of their hiding places and making their way towards the edge of the destruction zone. Bruce staggers forward, bracing himself against the cars in the street. He looks around, agape at the ruined buildings around him. There's a ringing in the air and he frowns as he tries to figure out where it's coming from, and then realises it's the phone in his pocket. He pulls it out and smiles when he sees the name on the caller ID.

'Don't come,' says a voice, softly but firmly.

'What do you-'

Dev-Em lifts the mass of metal in which Zod is encased and begins to fly up to the Black Zero.

People edge closer as the silence begins to draw them out.

'I know you, Bruce. Don't. We can see what's happening out there. Don't. We're fine. Wait until it's all over. You're not him anymore. You don't need to be here. Go check on others.'

'Dick. Shut up.' His smile is a little wider. He begins to jog and then winces, holding his head for a couple of seconds.

Almost a mile up in the sky, energy ripples through the mass of metal and Dev-Em is suddenly blasted away, upwards towards the Black Zero. The metal ball falls from the sky, twisting and spinning.

'Bruce.'

'I'll be there in five. If the dumb waiter's accessible,' he says, looking up as a whining sound fills the air. 'I'll be-'

Tonnes of metal burrow into a building. Windows explode and the external walls lurch and collapse.

'DICK!' he roars. He starts to run and covers his mouth as the street fills with blinding dust.

All around him, people scream and trying to get away. In the sky, the Black Zero is covered with blue-white energy and begins to collapse in on itself.

With one arm shielding his face, Bruce walks forward with the other outstretched as he tries to feel his way through the darkness of the dust. Metal groans and more people scream and the wind seems to be laughing at everything.

The ground heaves under him and Bruce steadies himself, eyes closed. There are more screams and a voice pierces the darkness and noise:  _'I will make you all suffer!'_  There's the sound of metal tearing and snapping.  _'One…by…one!'_

The ground heaves again and Bruce grits his teeth against the against the sound of screeching metal.

'He's removing his armour!' shouts a female voice, and Bruce tries to open his eyes.

The air pops and swirls and Bruce hunches over in order to breathe as the sound akin to jackhammers pounding concrete and metal grows fainter and fainter.

* * *

The dust begins to clear and Bruce sees a mangled box of metal, thirty feet by twenty feet, jutting out of the ruins of the building Zod had fallen into. He walks to towards it, phone to his ear, gently brushing by anyone in the way.

'It won't work,' says a man in his forties. His suit is torn and he's covered in dust, and helping a wounded man away from the area. Bruce looks at him, confused, and the man gestures at his phone. 'It won't work. They've routed all the networks to the emergency services. Protocol.'

Bruce looks at his phone and shakes his head. 'I have a special line,' he says. 'It will work.' He presses the call button again and keeps walking to the edge of the ruins. The mounds of rubble shift and huge chunks of concrete tumble and slide down and several people grab Bruce and pull him away.

'Sir,' says a large man in a security uniform. 'Please, Mr Wayne, the best thing we can do is wait for search and rescue.'

Bruce looks at the man, frowning for a second, and then grabs him by the shoulders. 'Michael! Did you-'

'I'm sorry, Sir. Mr Grayson and Ms Gordon were-'

'Taken to the panic room, I know.'

'It was protocol, Sir.'

'I know. I know. How many are unaccounted for.'

'Seventeen people, Sir.'

'And all of them?'

'Sir.' Bruce begins to step forward but Michael holds out his arm and blocks.

'Get out of the way, Michael.'

'I can't do that, Sir.'

'Don't test me.'

'Sir, with all due respect, there's nothing you can do until search and rescue get here, and anything you do try to do might endanger everyone else. They're buried and we can't reach them right now.'

'Michael.'

'You know I'm right.'

Superman floats backwards, away from the Black Zero. Blue and white energies expand and ripple over the huge space prison, and reach out to Superman. He pulls back further to where the scout ship is hovering. The air fills with the sounds of wind and strained metal and, within seconds, the Black Zero is pulled into the Phantom Zone and everything is quiet.

Helicopters begin to arrive and dozens of people quickly descend on ropes down to various groups of people on the ground.

'You should go help coordinate,' Bruce says to Michael. His eyes are fixed on the rubble of the building in front of him. 'I promise I won't go in until they let me.' He continues looking for a few more seconds and then turns away and sees a little girl staring at the building the way he had been. He looks at Michael and his mouth hardens when Michael quietly gestures at the rubble and mouths 'parents'.

Bruce steps towards the girl and carefully crouches down. 'Honey? What's your name?' She looks at him, her dust-caked face streaked with tears, and the satchel-strap on her shoulder slips and her small bag falls to the ground. Bruce looks over at Michael, unsure at what to do, when, without warning, the girl turns and steps towards Bruce's shoulder.

Holding her close, Bruce watches as Superman floats down to the large crowd gathered in and on the edge of the destruction zone and he hears one of them say, 'You did it. You saved us', and the little girl sobs and Bruce whispers, 'It's okay. You're going to be okay,' and looks up as Superman flies away and, as his eyes follow the caped 'hero's' arc, Bruce Wayne's mouth turns and grimaces in a way it hadn't done in years, and a growl stirs in his chest.

* * *

In a large room within the UN compound in Metropolis, dozens of people attend an urgent meeting. Gerard Shugel finishes his speech:

_'The world has changed, my friends, and it's down to us to make sure that that change is for the better, for us – for mankind.'_


	2. Chapter 2

18 months ago

_Channel 52 News – Bethany Snow_

'Hours after the attempted invasion by beings the authorities are calling "Kryptonians" was stopped by one of their own, the media-dubbed "Superman" has been criss-crossing the oceans in a bid to buffer and divert the massive tidal waves that continue to persist despite the destruction of the "World Engine" in South East Asia.

'More than 90,000 ships are at sea at any given time, ranging from cruise ships and military to oil tankers and cargo ships to fishing boats and yachts and everything in between. It's still too soon to know exactly how many people were at sea when the Kryptonians attacked, however reports are coming in on a number of rescues and recoveries in the areas around Indonesia and north-west Australia.

'Linda Park, currently travelling through Indonesia, had this to say in a video posted on her blog:

_"The thing that got to the locals in this small fishing town was how black the sky had been, with some even suggesting that Death had laid his clock down. It has cleared up now but the air feels wrong. Some of us ventured out and found thick layers of dust clinging to everything. People here are resorting to wearing face-masks in order to give themselves at least a little protection from whatever it is that's in the air around us._

_"We're the lucky ones, though. I…there have been some deaths here. Some children and a few of the elderly…whatever it is that did this made it difficult to breathe and...we're waiting to..._

_"Most people are staying indoors and, right now, we really don't want to know what's causing all those booms around us."_

'In the Philippines, the Institute of Volcanology and Seismology issued a number of Tsunami alerts, as well as ones for a number of volcanoes. Their spokeswoman said:

_"We have different alert signals for the volcanoes but there is no denying that, right now, the alert levels should be at a 3 for several of the volcanoes, and a 4 for the others. There is intense unrest. and lava emissions and explosions have been reported. That there's this much activity happening at the same time is not normal."_

'And that seems to the thought on everyone's mind right now: this is not normal.'

* * *

The 'border' of the South Atlantic and Indian Oceans is a flurry of activity that hasn't been seen before, in living memory. Boats lurch about on the waters, tossed around by waves and rapids that seem to appear from nowhere. In the distance, dark clouds drift and scurry across the sky, some looking pregnant with rain and all carrying with them pockets of lightning storms bombarding the water below. The sea-life seems to be competing in their bid to get away from 'something', with scores battering anything that gets in their way, even at the cost of their own lives.

A cruise ship near Mauritius rocks back and forth, dull thuds reverberating throughout, unnerving some of the experienced crew. The passengers – numbering over a thousand – have been gathered in the dining hall and, confused by what is happening around them and the fear brought about by the captain refusing to give the order for the lifeboats to be launched, there are a number of them who are restless and 'keen' to take charge.

A hush slowly descends in the room as the Captain steps onto a platform, microphone in hand, and gestures for quiet. He looks quite calm and smiles at some of the people looking at him while he waits for the room to quieten a little more.

'Thank you all for coming together so quickly. With what has been going on outside, I felt it important to speak to you all directly in order to avoid any confusion or misunderstanding, and to answer any questions anyone may have.' He smiles and adjusts his hat before clearing his throat a little and continuing: 'You all heard the broadcast when the aliens made contact. I have been informed that the storms and rough waters we are experiencing are a result of the aliens attacking, and-'

Immediately there is a roar of noise as the passengers begin screaming and praying and shouting Some begin rushing towards the exits, pushing and shoving anyone or anything that gets in their way.

'Please.  _Please!_  Ladies and gentlemen,  _please_  remain calm! The attack is over and the aliens have been defeated.' The rumbles being to die down and the panicky people start to realise what they were doing and there is a murmur of apologies throughout the room. 'I  _know_  this all sounds crazy but please be assured that we are quite safe now. What  _we_  have to do is ride out this storm and then we can make our way to port. There is no need for anyone to leave this ship.'

'How do we know the aliens haven't won and you're not just luring us into a trap?' shouts one of the passengers.

The captain chuckles a little and tries to reassure everyone as a new murmur begins to build, but then:

'Oh my God! They're going to sacrifice us!'

There are more shouts and screams and the wait staff and crew find themselves steadily overwhelmed and begin to move towards the walls of the room, away from the panicked and enraged passengers.

'Please! The aliens have been beaten! We're all going to be safe!'

'He's lying!  _We_   _have to take the ship!_ '

'We have to save ourselves!'

While some of the passengers rush at the crew and wait staff, most of them huddle together and try to move out of the way of the fighting that begins to break out around them. There are screams as the captain is struck on the head and buried beneath several men as they attack him.

After a few moments, his white uniform stained with blood, the captain is pulled to his feet and the aggressive group begins to chant: 'Over board. Save Ourselves'. Their chant is flat and doesn't stir the other passengers, so some of the chanters begin shouting louder and gesturing at the frightened passengers to join in.

The captain and some of the crew are dragged from the room, writhing and shouting, urging the other passengers to help them and to stop what is happening. Some of them want to help but their fear and uncertainty holds them back. There are whispers: 'What if it's true?' 'How could we have beaten  _aliens_?' 'They tore the sky open. What if they have taken over?'

On the main deck of the ship, the chanting continues, interrupted by the lurching of the distant rumbles and cracks of thunder, and the small group of passengers quickly attacks any crew members they come across. A couple of men pin the captain against the railing and punch him a couple of times.

'You  _actually_ thought that we would let you just hand us over?' says one of them, breathlessly. 'That we wouldn't fight you?' He grabs the captain by the way and turns his head up to look at him. 'You thought it would be easy, us being out here with no one to help? We're  _homo sapiens._   _We_  rule the world, not your alien masters.'

'Please,' says the captain, weakly. 'You're making a mistake.'

' _You_  made the mistake,' shouts the other passenger, and he punches the captain in the face, and then winces and clutches at his hand.

Scores of passengers rush out onto the deck, shouting at the others to stop and telling them that 'we're better than this' and some of the attackers begin to lash out and swing wildly at those around them, the ship's movement only making things harder for everyone. 'We're doing this for you! We're doing this to save us!' In the struggle a half dozen people get pushed overboard and their screams capture everyone's attention. The clashing-crowd is silent for a few seconds, stunned by what has just happened.

The ship lurches again and dozens of people fight against its movement as they try to hurry to the side in order to look overboard in the hope of being able to save someone.

'Oh Lord! What have we done?'

The side of the ship is dented and smeared with the remains of hundreds of fish and the water churns and froths red. Dead fish float on the water as the waves rise and fall, but there is no sign anyone.

Massive tentacles suddenly reach out of the water, and in each one is one of the people who had fallen overboard. Some of the fallen are limp and unconscious, others are stunned and wide-eyed. The passengers on the ship stare, and many fall to their knees or on their behinds as their legs give way.

On the 'border' of the South Atlantic and Indian Oceans, hidden from sight, Arthur floats in the water, his eyes closed and his brow furrowed as he concentrates on conducting and coordinating dozens of rescue efforts. Dolphins leap through the water, conveying urgent messages to the marine-telepath and, deep in the depths of the oceans, huge creatures stir, reluctantly, in order to provide the aid he has requested of them.

Near dozens of boats and ships of all sizes, bodies rise to the surface as the drowned are returned.

* * *

_Max and You Special Edition, on ML News 1 – a discussion panel with Max Lord hosting, and G Gordon Godfrey and Simone DeNiege as guest panellists_

Satellite images and news broadcasts are displayed on a huge screen behind the three speakers. The screen has been divided into sections and the footage shown ranges from the ruins of Metropolis to artist renditions of the World Engine; large waves crashing into coastal towns and villages; weather patterns across the oceans; state leaders giving speeches; and people desperately trying to get to safety. One piece of footage is of rescue helicopters hovering in the air,  _aided_  by the lack of storm winds and, beneath them, massive fishing boats lying in pieces.

'…weather analysts across the world put together dozens of models in the wake of the attack,' says Simone, 'and every single one of those initial models predicted a level of destruction that just has not happened. What's key to note, however, is that those models were not wrong. What happened in the South Asian Seas, and the tidal waves that were created,  _should_  have wiped out Sri Lanka, the Maldives, scores of the Indonesian and Philippine islands, a chunk of North-West Australia, and dozens of other places, including the West Coast of the United States, Mexica, Guatemala and so on. Hawaii shouldn't exist right now. The  _only_  thing that stopped all that from happening is the guy flying around the world over and over again.'

'So you're saying that the world is a little "safer" than it might have been and that's because of this "Superman"?' asks Godfrey, frowning and leaning slightly towards Simone.

'Of course. Without-'

'And what of the fact that it was his own people who did this in the first place?'

'What of the fact that he stopped them? What of-'

'Look,' says Godfrey, turning from Simone and facing the camera directly, 'their "General Zod" made it pretty clear that they only came here because of this "Kal-El", so it stands to reason that he should bear the responsibility for what happened, right?'

'Why are you ignoring what he has been doing to put things right?' shifting in her seat in order to get back in Godfrey's line of sight, or at least get him to look at her.

'Maybe you should ask the people who lost loved ones because of him, or those who are having to survive in refugee camps  _across the world_  because their village was wiped out.'

'The local and national governments-'

'Could do  _nothing_  to stop what was happening, and can do nothing to fix things. How can you not see how he has made everyone reliant on him?' Godfrey points at the screen as footage is shown of Superman carrying tonnes of aid to a refugee camp, and hundreds of people cheering at his arrival.

* * *

_Channel 52 News_

'Continuing our non-stop coverage following the foiled Kryptonian invasion, we are now at a point of...well, a point simply of grief as the first of what will be  _thousands_  of funerals are taking place in temples, churches, mosques, and synagogues across the world as those who have lost loved ones in the Kryptonian attack try to lay their family and friends to rest. While many have a sense of closure no one would have thought possible, after the bodies of all of the drowned were returned to the surface, for almost everyone that closure is heavy with pain, and questions abound as to what could have been done to have stopped this from happening, and what can be done to stop it from happening again.

'"As a man, casting worn-out garments, taketh new ones, so the dweller in the body, casting off worn-out bodies, entereth into others that are new. For certain is death for the born, and certain is birth for the dead; therefore, over the inevitable, thou shouldst not grieve."'

'"…may his place of rest be in the Garden of Eden. Therefore, may the All-Merciful One shelter him with the cover of His wings forever, and bind his soul in the bond of life. The Lord is his heritage; may he rest in his resting place in peace."'

'"Oh Allah, forgive those of us that are alive and those of us that are dead; those of us that are present and those of us who are absent; those of us who are young and those of us who are adults; our males and our females."'

'"…day after day, He cares for His beings; the Great Giver watches over all. Your gifts cannot be appraised; how can anyone compare to the Giver?"'

'"…whom Thou hast commanded to pass out of this world, that Thou wouldst place him in the region of peace and light, and bid him be partaker with Thy Saints."'

'"And I heard a voice from heaven saying, "Write this: Blessed are the dead who die in the Lord from now on." "Blessed indeed," says the Spirit, "that they may rest from their labours, for their deeds follow them!"'

'"Even the gorgeous royal chariots wear out; and, indeed, this body, too, wears out. But the teaching of goodness does not age; and so Goodness makes that known to the good ones."'

* * *

_First Church of Superman – webcast of Pastor Papp_

The stain-glass window bears the 'S' shield and, on the altar, is a bent car bumper and a large piece of scorched black fabric. Pastor Papp is a man of slight build but there is an excitable energy in the way he walks, a sense of urgency, and his voice is firm and confident.

'In times of hardship and devastation, people of faith cling  _to_  their faith with a firmness they never thought possible. Many of those without faith often find it and find themselves changed. This  _used_  to be the norm. This is how it was when God was invisible.

'God is with us now.' He turns slightly and his hand brushes against the S-shield on his sleeve. The camera follows him as he walks to a large print of part of a cave wall – a part on which a variation of the S-shield has been painted, along with something falling from the sky.

'He walks among us and has walked among us for years upon years.'

He turns to the altar and traces a finger over the dent in the bumper - it's about the size of a man's forearm.

'And with a casualness that suits His godhood, He dismissed the attacks of the one who would try to usurp Him.

'Some mock us for what is apparent and true. Some try to call us crazy. Yet their God is unseen. Their God did nothing to stop what would have been the end of the world.

'It is no coincidence that the whole world heard His name to be Kal-El when it came time for us to know of Him. He hears our whispers and comes to our aid. He delivers manna upon His shoulders so that those who would otherwise starve can live.

'In His mercy, He has brought back those who died because of the usurpers' actions. Not to life, no, as that is not His desire, but back, to us, to those who lost their loved ones, so that we could see and understand. Death touches us all, and those who were taken are truly blessed as He has chosen them above all to be saved from what is yet to come.

'God walks among us and still withholds His judgment. He walks among us and watches as we right ourselves. He walks among us and salves some of our pain that we may grow stronger and follow Him.

'It is no coincidence that he wears the blue of the sky and red of royalty. With a glance he makes his wrath known and, soon, without any doubt, he will begin to cleanse the world of those who do wrong.

'Live in obeyance and kneel before Kal-El.'

* * *

_Channel 52 News – Molly Mane with Dr Helga Jace_

'Look, we can  _all_  agree that the effects of that machine could have been far, far worse, but the fact remains  _we do not know happened to those islands_ ,' says Dr Jace.

'Are you saying the world's governments are conspiring against us?'

'No, I'm saying they're trying to find out and are doing their utmost to avoid a global panic.'

'What kind of panic do you suppose would happen?'

'There's no short answer to that. We know the machine had started to increase Earth's mass, we don't know what that means for the stability of the planet. We don't know the impact that has on the environment. On the climate. We don't know, yet, how that affects our gravitational relationship with the moon.'

'You keep saying what we  _don't_  know. What can you tell us about what we  _do_  know?'

'We do know that this Kal-El or "Superman" person is doing a cleanup of the damage his people caused and the lives they took.'

'That's all?'

'That's all we know with any certainty.'

'Thank you, Doctor Jace.

'Continuing with the main headline of the day: The Select Committee on The Metropolis Incident, headed by Senator Finch, has requested Supeman's presence at a public meeting to be held in ten weeks' time in Metropolis.'

* * *

Large screens in the NorthCom centre display scenes from various battles and scenes of destruction from across the globe. The effects of the World Engine, satellite readings of the changes in landscape – from the South Indian Ocean through to the Grand Canyon – and the piles of rubble in the middle of Metropolis. Shugel turns to Swanwick, gesturing at the various screens:

_'At the end of the day, General, what guarantee is there that he won't one day turn against us? Or turn against the world?'_

* * *

'It is now three weeks after the foiled invasion, and while state leaders continue to debate on what needs to be done to avoid the economic crisis edging closer to us, the funerals, burials, and cremations of the dead continue. Responding to the World Health Organisation's plea for there to be mass burials and mass cremations in order to avoid the spread of disease, a letter has been released, signed by more than 10,000 religious leaders across almost every faith and denomination, stating:

'"The events of the recent attack are unprecedented. Even more so is the return of all those who were lost at sea. That their bodies have been recovered obligates us to perform all the rites and rituals owed to them because of their respective faiths.

'"Despite the uniqueness of the situation we all, collectively and individually, have precedents and rulings in place which allow us to fulfil our obligations to the faithful who have passed on. We are wholly aware of the threat of disease, and we are also aware of our duties to the survivors, the bereaved, and the future generations."'

'Alongside the concern for potential outbreaks for disease, many are now raising questions on confirming the identities of the deceased after Superman, working alongside Interpol, broke no less than  _seven_ people trafficking rings.'

* * *

_GBS News - Gotham_

'In the wake of the destruction of Metropolis, many who call that city home have fled to Gotham for refuge. The once-shunned sister city has opened itself up to tens of thousands of people after Metropolis' Mayor Berkowitz made a call for aid. Although the Metropolis Incident  _has_  been declared a major disaster, the preliminary damage assessment conducted by State and Federal officials has determined the extent of the impact to  _not_  be beyond the scope of the State's abilities and resources.'

The main gates to Robinson Park are displayed on the screen, and the camera rises to provide an aerial view. Robinson Park is now a massive refugee camp. Hundreds of tents cover the greens, and small boats trawl the water and clear the rubbish that has been thrown in. Near the recently renovated bandstand is a large soup kitchen. The queues are long and ordered, and while the people look tired and haggard, there is a sense of calm.

'As you can see, there are many,  _many_  people here who would disagree with that assessment.'

'"How can they call this a disaster and  _not_  help us?' said Evelyn Curry, an asset manager for a firm in Metropolis, and currently homeless. "All of us here lost everything in the attack. Everything. Including who we are. This...I have money, but I can't access anything. I can't do anything. This isn't right."'

'An army civil engineer said: "The downtown and financial district of the city are in ruins. The infrastructure – gas mains, sewers, metro, all torn apart. Repairing things will have to start deep underground."

'The investigators have concluded that most of the destruction was contained in an area of around three square miles, with damage for two miles outside that zone being classified at around sixty percent, with the structural integrity of many buildings still being assessed. Beyond this area, we understand the damage to be comparatively minimal. However, to say something like this to those currently living in the Park, and the responses you receive are quite understandable:

'"We don't have a home! There's a crater miles wide and they have the-"'

* * *

A torn piece of see-through plastic-looking material is being examined in a sealed room. It sparks a little and the delicate probes are repelled. Red lights flash in warning, but no alarms sound.

* * *

On a large screen are images of a densely packed molecular structure covered with 'error' and 'unknown' markings. On a number of smaller screens are a series of computer-generated models of structures that have a passing resemblance to the one on the large screen. Computer simulated tests on the models reveal instabilities in the structures and they collapse, shatter, or degrade.

* * *

_Gotham Cemetery – The Wayne Lot_

Two caskets have been led onto the lot and are waiting for interment, and there are over a hundred people in attendance.

'I have to be honest with you all: I'm not ready for today. Ever since it all happened I've been turning the events over in my mind, trying to understand, trying to see…and I can't. I just…I keep seeing chaos.

'This morning I kept saying to Alfred that it should be him here talking to you, not me. It should be him, the man who was like a father to both of us, and not me, the one who insisted on building walls. Alfred said it wasn't his place, but I know what he meant was that he would do what he always did and speak to Dick in private.

'I wish I could do that right now, too.

'People say that laughter was taken away from them when they lose a loved one, and I don't think there is anyone here today who wouldn't say that Dick's passing has taken our laughter away. He would definitely snort at me for saying this, but he was the kind of man Dostoyevsky spoke of when he said: "If you wish to glimpse inside a human soul and get to know a man, don't bother analysing his ways of being silent, of talking, of weeping, of seeing how much he is moved by noble ideas; you will get better results if you just watch him laugh. If he laughs well, he's a good man."

'Dick truly was a good man. He was only a boy when I met him but he was awe-inspiring. Young in age but immense in feat, he was, beyond all doubt, a Flying Grayson and deserved the title of 'Boy Wonder'. He was only a boy when his world was shattered and our lives came together. For me, he…for me...

'"How far that little candle throws his beams! So shines a good deed in a weary world."

'That was him. That was Dick. As much as other people would lay claim to bringing about change in Gotham, Dick was one of the truest source of that change – for me and in me and, across our city, one person at a time, he  _inspired_  change.

'One of the things I heard him say over the years, whether it was to children in the orphanages or the homeless in soup kitchens, or when we were in India, or anywhere else, was how "a person who has good thoughts cannot ever be ugly" and that "if you have good thoughts they will shine out of your face like sunbeams and you will always look lovely."

'This morning, Alfred reminded me of another: "...above all, watch with glittering eyes the whole world around you because the greatest secrets are always hidden in the most unlikely of places."

'Sometimes it seemed like such a childish thing, the words Dick held on to, but, as the years passed, I realised how much they reflected him and the good he saw in others.

'But we didn't just lose Dick. We lost Barbara, too. These past weeks, I keep remembering her as the quick-witted redhead who could remember everything, and the way Dick stared at her when they first met. I remember Jim's eyes light up with pride whenever he mentioned her, and how broken we all were when...

'But Barbara was strong. Perhaps even the strongest-willed woman I will ever know. Perhaps it was their mutual strength and determination that eventually led to Dick and Barbara coming together – I'm certainly not going to claim to be some kind of guiding influence. When the use of her legs was taken from her, she didn't give up. When we found a way for her to walk again, her efforts to bring our city out of darkness only increased. Together, hand-in-hand, they achieved so much, and I know many of you here today will help me and us in continuing that work.

'When Jim Gordon was taken from us I steeled myself for Barbara's hate. I have so much responsibility for what happened, I still do, but, somehow, she didn't hate. Somehow, she told me...somehow she  _believed_  that Jim wouldn't blame me for what happened. I couldn't wholly accept that – I think, over the years, many of you know that...that there are losses I have taken very personally. Jim's passing was one of those, but Barbara's love and understanding...

'The day this all happened they had called me and said they wanted to see me after their meeting in Metropolis. I didn't think anything of it at the time; I just thought that, most probably, they would be putting a new project before me. Yesterday, I think I found out what it was they wanted to see me about, and when I realised...my heart broke.

'They were expecting.'

* * *

Bruce Wayne stands in the middle of the overgrown grass surrounding the ruins of Wayne Manor, staring at the old mansion. The wind rustles through the grass and stirs his overcoat, and there's the sound of a boy laughing. He turns and his vision blurs for a second and the overgrown grass disappears and the grounds and mown and manicured, and young boy is tumbling and spring.

'Master Grayson, please slow down!' says Alfred, hurrying after him.

The boy performs a triple somersault and lands softly on his feet, and frowns at Alfred. 'If you don't call me Dick then I'll start calling you Mr Pennyworth.'

'That's hardly fair,' says Alfred, a little breathlessly. 'My role here-'

'You said we were friends, didn't you?'

'I...I did.'

'Then no formalities. Not with me. And stop forcing me to use big words!'

Bruce smiles as he remembers watching all this while hiding in the trees.


	3. Chapter 3

_ANN - Melbourne_

'As if adding insult to recent injury to the country, several major bushfires have started in Victoria. The County Fire Authority is already on site and stretched thin.'

* * *

_GBS News – Gotham – Jack Ryder_

'It's arguable that something like this happening was only to be expected. After weeks of living in tents and having to rely on food packages, the refugees from Metropolis have had enough.

'"I've paid my taxes, we all have, but the Government's treating as  _non_ -Americans, forcing us to come here, making us suffer."

'"My kids don't deserve this. This isn't America. This isn't  _American_. We're supposed to be looking out for our own, not suffering in filth and disease!"

'"Look, Gotham has been good to us. The people here have tried, but there are limits to what we can endure. All these weeks and the sanitation facilities are barely existent. We eat the same food over and over again. There are even reports – not rumours,  _reports_  – of cases of TB."

'As the displaced population continues to struggle with their new living conditions, both city councils have been meeting in order to try to find a resolution. With Metropolis' Central Park also filled to capacity, it's likely a further outreach may be attempted in order to relocate at least a quarter of the displaced to alternative towns and cities.

'"We came to Gotham because we had no choice. We don't want to stay here. We want to be able to go home."

'"The longer this continues the more of a drain on resources this will be. Some people are saying this could go on for a year. Superman was here earlier, bringing in food and water, but what about Metropolis? When will they start fixing the city? We have our own homeless, we can't be expected to look after another city's."

'In what some have called a "desperate move", a very public appeal was made by the Governor, which Congress has set-aside pending assessment. The American people have been stunned by this seemingly dismissive attitude, resulting in protests and marches across the country.

'"We, the people. That's what it comes down to. Time and time again, our representatives have abandoned us and made excuses. They've let our industries rot while they lined their own pockets and now, since there's no perceivable financial gain  _for them_  in saving Metropolis, they're letting one of our nation's greatest cities fall to ruin. We, the people, have had enough."

'"Say what you will about Superman, but he's the one who's been rallying people together. Not just here but across the world. It's pretty clear the Government's stopping him from helping us more. We heard he helped build half a dozen sanitation plants in South East Asia. Maybe he just dug the ground or whatever. He could easily do that here, but they won't let him."

'We've just received word of…yes, it appears there's currently a riot in the Narrows. We're transferring over to our Eye in the Sky.'

_The Narrows is renowned for being part of Gotham's 'dark heart', with what used to be decaying and dilapidated buildings. As much as Gotham has changed in recent years, the Narrows is still an area many prefer to avoid, yet it's been an area of revival and the sense of community has been inspiring._

_Helicopter footage shows dozens of people, brandishing clubs and crowbars, fighting through a small crowd and rushing at a building. Huddled in small groups in the street, the injured shout out to the riot police gathered at one end of the street. As the police move forward something is thrown out of one of the windows of the building and the people in the street help each other up and try to get away._

_A large armoured vehicle turns into the street and the canon on top of it turns towards the people standing in front of the seized building._

_"Lay down your weapons and return to the camp!"_

_"No, no, we won't go! We deserve to live in homes, y'know!" they begin to chant._

_A man pushes his way towards them and shouts, "That's_ my home _, you-" and is shoved to the ground, and the crowd of residents swells. A blast of water keeps the two sides separate just as they try to rush each other, and the police begin to move in._

'Josuae Devlin Davenport, speaking on behalf of the Daven-Wayne Narrows Initiative, said, earlier today: "These are innocent people being targeted. We understand that the refugees are facing harsh times, but that does not justify their behaviour. Yes, The Narrows are still a dark part of Gotham but no city is perfect, and Metropolis certainly never was. This cannot be allowed to continue. The police  _must_ intervene."

'Some of the refugees in Robinson Park had this to say when they heard of the incident:

'"We are good people. The ones living in The Narrows, they're drug dealers and pimps. Gothamites should be  _helping_  us get rid of them, not crying foul."

'"Are some people living there decent folk? Sure, good people are always found stuck in places they would rather not be. We're not going to force out those kinds of people because we  _are_  those kinds of people."

'"People are tired and they're desperate. They want to go home and they want a roof over their heads. They don't  _want_  to be in The Narrows, but some of them feel it's a better place to be than out here."

'"At least the toilets work there, right? No need to queue for three hours."

'As the day progressed and more, from both sides, joined in the clashes, the police resorted to using gas alongside the water cannons. Eventually, with their numbers thinned, the rioters stopped and made their way back to Robinson Park.

'No arrests have been made as, according to Lieutenant Hennelly, "While there was clearly malicious intent for some of those involved, it does us no good to clog up our cells with the displaced. It's better that they go back to the camp. There have been some injuries and they're being attended to but, I have to say, it would have been nice if Superman had lent a hand in all this."'

_A placard behind Jack Ryder says: "I Believe In Batman"._

* * *

_ANN - Melbourne_

'It's an astonishing sight. Despite the protests of the firefighters, Superman walked straight into the heart of the inferno. Clearly, the reports of him being impervious to fire were not exaggerated. The winds have been in excess of a hundred kilometres per hour and, as he stepped into the flames, several gum trees exploded!

'Seconds later, the Man of Steel returned, with his cape bundled in his arms and fury in his eyes.'

* * *

_'As the people of Gotham take to social media platforms to vent their frustration over the actions of the Metropolitans, there are some who have started looking to the sky around the main building of the GCPD.'_

Sounds of controlled breathing drift through the air as Alfred walks across a metal platform. 'There's no need for this,' he mutters to himself, as he turns a corner and stops. The platform meets with a concrete floor and, at the end of the flooring, glass panels separate the area from the dark cavern beyond. Alfred takes in a deep breath, walks to the glass, and looks down on the spotlighted areas

Bruce is training. High from the ground, he holds himself in a planche position on the rings before slowly moving into a handstand and then an inverted cross.

_'The Mayor has imposed a curfew around the Robinson Park area.'_

_'Reports of violent crime and assaults have increased by 72%.'_

* * *

A tangled mass of metal and concrete the size of a small office block rises up from the ground, revealing a ruined subway station. Pieces of concrete and metal fall away and sunlight begins pouring in as ropes are thrown and workmen begin making their way in in order to examine and shore up the area.

'We have some more down here,' shouts one of the workers, and there's silence as Superman descends and, solemnly, begins clearing away more of the rubble. 'Lead,' he whispers to himself. 'It has to be.'

* * *

Bruce continues training. Tyre-pulls, automaton combat, parkour, and batarang exercises. He has various sensors stuck to him and screens monitor and display all sorts of readings: speed 60%, strength 70%, stamina, 35%, and so on.

Alfred steps away from a table where a series of disassembled items have been placed, and picks up a stopwatch.

* * *

Despite increased pressure from local and national leaders, the funerals continue as more bodies are identified and brought to the various funeral sites:

"…make this child a source for our salvation and make her a source of reward and treasure for us and make her an intercessor for us and one whose intercession is accepted."

"…from untruth lead us to Truth. From darkness lead us to Light. From death lead us to Immortality. Om Peace, Peace, Peace."

"…they have found the Imperishable Supreme Being, the Transcendent Lord God, and they receive great honour throughout all the world and realms. I am poor and meek, God, but I belong to You! Save me, please save me, O Greatest of the Great!"

"…for those who have died, those who have gone before us marked with the sign of faith, and those whose faith in this life was known to You alone. Have mercy on them all and bring them into Your kingdom of peace and light without end…"

"He will wipe away every tear from their eyes, and death shall be no more, neither shall there be mourning, nor crying, no pain anymore, for the former things have passed away."

* * *

_Channel 52 News_

'"We are human." That is the chant being raised by both sides in the conflict currently raging through Suicide Slum. After weeks of patience, hundreds of the thousands of displaced currently residing in Central Park have decided to take matters into their own hands. Much like what occurred in Gotham a few days ago so, too, have citizens tried to seize an area and occupy it and, much like those in Gotham, they likely didn't expect any resistance from the authorities.

'"I've lived in Metropolis my whole life. I was born here. The people in the Slums are outsiders. Most of them aren't even American. They sneak into the country and then try to claim citizenship. Well, I  _am_  a citizen, I  _am_  an American, and if I have to push out a gangbanger in order to put a roof back over my head, I'll damn well do that."

'"I was born here, too! You can't just come here and try to take our homes!"

'"Listen to you. You can't even speak properly and you try to claim to be from here! Those apartments you all live in, they were paid for by the taxes people like me have been paying for years. We have every right to take back what's ours."

'"Yours is out there, you self-centred ingrate. Just because your place got trashed don't mean you can come pretend ours is yours."

'"You hear that? And she claims to be from Metropolis. It's pathetic. And the police are pathetic for helping them. We're human beings. We're American citizens. We deserve to be treated better."

'"Then what the hell are we?!"

'As the clashes continue, the chant is maintained:

'" _We are human!_ "'

* * *

17 months ago

There is a satellite by the roadside in what looks to be a quiet area of desert. A car pulls up alongside it and General Swanwick and Captain Farris get out of the car and approach the silent object. Superman steps out from behind it, his arms crossed, and he frowns at the General.

'That's a twelve million dollar piece of equipment!' shouts Swanwick.

'It still is; it's just not where you want it to be. I know you're trying to find out where I hang my cape. You won't.'

'Then I'll ask the obvious question: how do we know you won't one day act against America's interests?'

'We've been over this before, General, and my answer is the same: don't do anything that would make me want to work against you.'

'You're threatening.'

'No, it's not a threat and it's not a promise. I grew up here, and I'm as American as it gets, and I'm here to help. But it's going to be on my own terms and Washington is just going to have to accept that.'

'And if they don't?'

'Then perhaps my positive actions will speak louder to them than the fears they whisper among themselves,' says Superman, shrugging. He rises into the air a little, hovering, and, despite his aggressiveness towards him, Swanwick can't help but smile a little. Superman nods and then flies away, breaking the sound barrier when he's higher in the sky.

* * *

_The First Church of Superman – webcast lead by Pastor Papp_

'One of the prophecies across many of the old faiths is that God's arrival would be announced to all at the same time. This prophecy was fulfilled, and to deny this truth is pure foolishness. It's beyond this prophecy that the faiths begin to differ, with each one claiming to be the truth, but as the signs of our Lord continue to spread across the world, we know that more and more people are awakening to his Godhood.

'His symbol was hidden from the world and known only to a few. It used to a curiosity and an enigma, and even considered a hoax, but it has now been revealed to be true.

'Villages in Nigeria swell with the cheers of the faithful as He descends with the sustenance they need, while those who would otherwise oppress cower in fear. Parts of Mexico City that were considered 'no-go areas' now have civilians rallying together, inspired by Him. The abandoned factories in Detroit have found new life through Him. Russian farmers have carved out His symbol in their harvestless fields, and conflicts in the Middle East have quietened as those in command realise their temporal power has come to an end.

'Kneel in obeyance to Kal-El.'

* * *

_Themyscira_

A young man lies in a bed and looks to be sleeping. Purple energy washes over him and he stirs a little.

'The trauma to his head is almost healed,' says a female voice. She's speaking in Greek. 'I believe he will awaken in the next day or so.'

'Good,' says another female voice, in a much firmer and more authoritative tone. 'Perhaps then we can get some answers.'

* * *

Slow-motion footage of Zod's fight with Superman in the Grand Canyon is being displayed on dozens of screens in a massive and otherwise dark room. Supercomputers analyse points of impact and display various readings.

Footage from the Battle of Smallville is also being displayed, with the focus being on the energy output that had turned a large part of Smallville's high street into a pseudo-glass floor.

Other screens display various manuscript pages and diary entries, from 1980 to some time in the 90s, of notes, formulae, calculations, and the S-shield doodled all over the place.

* * *

An angry mob attacks the food lines in Robinson Park and chaos erupts. Gas canisters are fired into the park from the watchtowers that have been erected at various intervals. Hundreds of people hurry away from the scene but the mob continues its assault on the food kitchens. Light from searchlights flood the ground, aiding those trying to get away and disorienting those attacking.

Some of those fleeing look back and stop, and silence spreads through the crowd. The mob notices the quiet and their stillness and, confused and curious, look around themselves. Some of the crowd point up to the Clock Tower looking out over the park. A thick mass clings to the spire and, even from so far away, it looks like it is pulsing.

'He's not real! There's no Batman anymore!'

The mob roars and the crowd cheers and the shadow rises into the sky and spreads its wings. It disappears from sight, the light from the searchlights obscuring anything beyond them, and screeching noises fill the air. The shadow swoops down and splinters into hundreds of bats. The rioters run.

* * *

16 months ago

Although there are still vast areas of rubble throughout the ruined section of Metropolis' New Troy, there is an air of things now being more organised rather than chaotic and ominous. Huge earth-movers sit silent at various sites.

On a platform just inside the destruction zone stand a small group of men. On the ground and around them are dozens of reporters and camera crew. To the edges of the crowd, and interspersed among them, are various security personnel. A hush falls on the gathering as Gerard Shugel, a bald, well-dressed man, raises his hands for quiet and steps towards the lectern. He waits for the jostling reporters to settle and looks at the various suited men standing behind and to the side of him.

'It is not with pride that we stand here before you in order to make this announcement. Being here, under these circumstances, is something none of us had ever dreamed, yet I cannot deny that I do have some element of pride. In us. In all of you. I am proud that we have been able to come together in so many ways in order to at least begin to bring this city back from...from the destruction that was visited upon it.

'Congress has agreed to allow our companies to take the lead – yes, there were tax breaks for us in doing so, but none of us have accepted those proposals. Instead, we have decided to come together in a way that will, in years to come, benefit us all. It is with great pleasure that I announce that Metropolis will be the home of various aspects of Stagg, Queen, Wayne, Kord, LexCorp and others, forming the collective we have dubbed the Scientific and Technological Advanced Research Laboratories – S.T.A.R. Labs.

'This city – and many of you know I have often called it  _my_  city – was the city of tomorrow, and it  _will_  be the city of tomorrow again.'

* * *

_Documentary_

Decades ago, and more so after the murders of various members of the city's leading families, Gotham was considered a lost cause. It is with a relief of freedom that we can now openly state that, throughout those years, various crime families – from the Falcones to the Rileys to the Ibanescus and so on – ran the city. Twenty years ago, despite the denial of Commissioner Loeb and others, a challenge was made and, for the first time, secret camcorder footage of the incident has been made available:

_May 19, at a dinner party at the Mayor's mansion, a smoke grenade was thrown into the dining room through a window, and the lights were cut off. The darkness is incomplete – there is light from a flambé and the alcohol in the dish is burning quickly – but its suddenness is disorienting and panic-inducing, and voices can be heard off-camera:_

_'Settle down, damn it! It's just smoke!'_

_'Some stupid_ prank _-'_

_'_ Poison!  _It's-'_

_'Shut_ up _-'_

_There's an explosion and bright lights from floodlights set up in the mansion's garden flood into the room from a huge hole in the wall. In the middle of the hole, a dark, caped figure steps over the debris._

_'Ladies,' rumbles a voice. 'Gentlemen. You have eaten well.'_

_The dark figure approaches the flambé and takes the metal lid from the waiter._

_'You've eaten Gotham's wealth. It's spirit. Your feast is nearly over. From this moment on, none of you are safe.'_

_It covers the dish and, simultaneously, the lights from the garden and the light of the burning alcohol are extinguished, and there are screams and shouts._

None of what you have just seen has been shown to the public before, but the results of what started as a one-man war against crime became apparent a few years ago. Before that, however, was a period of escalation – as stories of 'The Batman' began to spread so, too, did stories of the Croc in the sewers, the murderous puppet imbued with the spirits of those hanged at the old Gotham Gallows, the Jester of Crime with his Laughing Fish and flesh-chewing wind-up chattering teeth, and the laughing boy in pixie boots, who made children smile and wish to fly.

Time and again, despite  _thousands_  of witness accounts, the GCPD denied the existence of all these things.

During this time, steadily rising through the ranks, the late Commissioner Gordon and his comrades-in-arms – Harvey Bullock, Renee Montoya, and others – began cleaning up the GCPD, precinct by precinct. The GCPD Brotherhood made dozens of attempts to put an end to Gordon and his team but were foiled, time and time again, by Gordon, his colleagues,  _and_  by The Batman.

The very public capture and arrest of The Joker, after the murders of Commissioner Gordon and twelve other people, finally settled the then decades-old question of the Gotham Urban Myth – The Batman was real.

Then The Batman disappeared.

Rumours spread, fuelled by The Joker's muttering of 'flailing the Little Bird', that the death of his oft-rumoured companion and protégé was the reason The Batman was no more.

Mountains of evidence was presented and the corruption of scores of city officials was exposed, and arrests were made. The Hill was raided and 'cleaned up' and, despite protests from human rights' groups, previously de-commissioned freighters were converted into new prisons to house the massive number of Gothamites arrested during this period and, later, jailed.

Wayne, Davenport, Kane, and  _dozens_  of other billionaires and companies came together, pooling their various resources, and the city was rejuvenated.

For almost five years Gotham has enjoyed the honour of being among the safest cities in the world – a status that would have been considered laughably impossible before, and a status that changed overnight as a result of the Metropolis Incident. Now, barely three months later, anarchy rules the streets.

* * *

_Themyscira_

'It was basically a war,' says the blond man as he sits by a window and looks out over the view of mountains and lush forest. 'Aliens had come to Earth and they wanted to get rid of us and make the planet their new home.'

'This much we have been able to ascertain; the questions, for us, are how you and your craft were able to cross the barrier and whether we can and should send you back.'

'Should?'

'We have been hidden from Man's World for a long time-'

'I'm sorry, Your Highness, but "Man's World"?'

'It is a translation of what we call it, in your tongue. A world ruled by men, made comfortable for men, geared for the interests of men.'

'With respect,' says Steve, standing up, 'perhaps you're a little out of touch with the way the world is.'

'With respect, Mr Trevor, my people and I have kept an eye on your world for a long time.'

'We're not perfect by any means, but we've come a long way.'

'"A long way"?'

The Queen waves a hand and images shimmer in the air between them: images of children being buried alive; of young women being abducted and herded; of money changing hands in a lavish apartment as subdued men and women are bartered and sold; of acres of trees being felled and water being polluted.

'Infanticide. Mutilation. Abuse.'

'I...we're not perfect but we're not the monsters you make us out to be.'

'There are many different kinds of monsters, Mr Trevor. Many kinds. We Amazons know them all too well.'

'I don't understand how this place can exist. How no one knew.'

'People knew. People forgot. It is the way it is meant to be and it is better that way.'

The Queen gestures again and images appear on the large wall.

'We have protected the world for hundreds of years. We protect the world  _now_. Millennia ago we were scattered.' She gestures at a wall and women of different races flash across it. 'Tribes guarding, protecting, fighting, for the sake of all. This world,  _your_  world, would not exist if not for us, Mr Trevor.

'We were scattered but we began to learn of each other and the burdens we all shared. In time, we found a way to bring the dangers together, here, on these islands. We found a way to be united and stronger. We embraced our title of Amazon and strived to bring peace.'

Images of various civilisations rising and growing appear on the floor and ceiling, and The Queen and Steve watch in silence as the civilisations crumble and fall.

'There are dangers out there that have been forgotten or relegated to myth. Dangers we cannot destroy but have safeguarded the world against.' Images begin to dance on the walls and ceiling and floor.

'Laestrygonians,' she says, pointing to the images of huge 'men' hurling boulders at ships. 'Giants who would wish nothing more than to chew on your bones.'

'Fee-fi-fo-fum', whispers Steve.

'There are demons created from broken souls, when their lives have been twisted and their hopes torn away from them. They gather in strength and number as Men continue their oppression and manipulation, but there are those here who can call them to the islands and assuage their pain.

'Gugalanna, whose feet made the earth shake,' and the images are of a massive bull and a man striking it with an axe. 'Slain yet always returning. Chained, yet always escaping. It drinks the waters of the world and eats everything that grows, and the people starve and suffer.

'Minotaurs and Jidra and Imbunche. The list goes on.'

'I've never heard of most of those, and the ones I have are just stories.'

'Indeed. As we had intended. Here, on these islands, we imprisoned them and lure them and set to protecting the world.'

'But no one knows about you!' shouts Steve, exasperated. 'I...I still feel that this is all a dream. A fantasy of paradise.'

'We discovered that...suffice to say, Mr Trevor, with so much evil in one place the protection has to be greater, for the sake of everyone. Many of our sisters have given up their lives for the sake of the Great Barrier – the wall that shields the world from the horrors hidden here.'

'And hides you from the world.'

'For now, Mr Trevor, but that may have to change. Again. The events that culminated in bringing you here – much has changed in the world beyond the barrier.'

'What do you mean "again"?'

'One of us ventured out before, when the balance shifted and threatened to engulf the world.'

'The one who saved me? Did she succeed? Did she come back?'

'She did, but maybe…perhaps it was not enough. It is strange. It was not so long ago, and yet the state of the world never quite righted itself and now, now it has shifted once again.' She turns away from Steve and looks out through the window and over the large island. 'It is as if Eris has been given freedom over everything while Aneris stays silent. Since you arrived we have looked out further and wondered if Limos and Algos, along with Hysminai and Makhai are also not out there sowing their seeds.'

'I'm sorry, your Highness, those names…I don't know them.'

'I pray you never will.'

* * *

_14 months ago_

Several large crowds have gathered outside the Metropolis Courthouse. Their chants are loud and passionate. Barriers have been set up in order to separate the various groups and keeping back the steps to the courthouse.

One group brandishes placards with slogans such as:

_Superman = Illegal Alien_  
Aliens are Un-American  
Earth belongs to humans!  
God Hates Aliens  
Aliens Doom Nations

Another group has:

_Thank You Superman_  
We Are Grateful  
You Are Not Alone

Another has:

_The Savior Is Here_  
He Walks Among Us  
We Are For Kal-El

'Today is a day for truth,' says Senator Finch, addressing the Committee members and the public observers. 'For months, there have been stories and rumours and supposition. All those things have led to division and distrust, anger and hatred. The world has changed. The world needs to know what happened, and to know what he stands for.

'We have extended an invitation to him and he has accepted. We have also extended invitations to some of those who were directly affected by his actions in Metropolis and some of them are here today.'

Outside the building, Superman descends and lands in the cleared area in front of the steps to the building. The chanting crowds are silent for a few seconds and Superman takes in a breath and begins to walk up the steps.

The crowds roar and surge and some of the police horses whinny and snort. Policemen hold onto the barriers and try to push people back and, the further up the steps he walks, the crowds begin to calm and revert to their various chants.

'…yet, so far, it seems it seems he has been using that power to do positive things,' says Senator Stearns. 'I firmly believe this being could be our greatest ally. He has saved hundreds of lives in such a short time. Is there potential geo-political impact? Of course, but we can all, collectively, work through things like that. We can.'

'One could well argue that the world has been so caught up with what he could do that no one has asked what he  _should_  do.'

'Is that the reason for this committee? To put forward ways of  _policing_  this man.'

'He isn't a man, despite the name he has been given. He is, in essence, the most powerful being on the planet. That kind of power is  _very_  dangerous.'

'Perhaps, yet what right do we have to stop someone from doing what they can do naturally?'

'The same right we have when we discover someone is inclined towards murder.'

'That's a preposterous comparison to make.'

'Senator, what happened in Metropolis changed the world more so than  _any_  event in history. In less than a day, the world and the human race learned how powerless we are. People have dreamed of flying under their own power long before Daedalus and Icarus, and people have dreamed of having the strength of Samson long before there was ever a form of writing.

'Since that day we have learned that not only are there beings out there who are immensely strong and can fly, but that they can scorch the planet with a glance, and our weapons do  _nothing_  to them. More than that, the best minds from across the globe have been working tirelessly to find out what these beings did to our planet with their machine. As much as many people dismissed the threat of global warming, there is now no denying that the world is falling apart.'

'Or it's correcting itself. We can't let fear and arrogance blind us or lead us astray.'

The doors to the courtroom open and the Committee falls silent. The press and the members of the public in the room turn and watching as Superman is ushered in. He walks tall, looking straight ahead towards the Committee members, his head turning ever so slightly as he looks over them. Senator Finch gestures towards the lectern and Superman makes his way over to it.

'Superman, thank you for coming. I'm Senator Finch, Chair of this Committee.'

'Senator. Committee Members.'

'Given the nature of scope of this Committee there are certain things we cannot address at this point in time and, for that, we have had no choice but to request your presence.'

'I'm here to help, Madam Chairwoman.'

'Thank you. For the record, please state – sorry, let me rephrase that: what is your name?'

'The whole world heard my name, Ma'am.'

'"Kal-El", yes, but what is your  _actual_  name. The name you use when you're not flying around or wearing that…suit?'

'With respect, I don't think that is relevant.'

'With respect, you told military personnel you have been living on Earth for thirty-three years, I believe it is absolutely relevant that the world knows who you really are.'

'I decline to answer.'

A murmur spreads through the room.

'Will you at least explain why?'

'I think it's pretty straightforward. What you're asking me to divulge doesn't just affect me. It will impact every person I have ever interacted with, and that is not fair on any of them.'

'Because they believed you were human rather than what you actually are?'

'Because they have a right to their privacy.'

'Very well. Kal-El it is.

'Months ago, the world was attacked in a way that it had never been before. Within the space of a handful of hours, thousands of lives were taken and a city was almost wiped off the map. The lives taken were not just American, and the impact of the attack continues even now, with tens of thousands of people displaced across the world. One of the reasons we've asked you to be here is so that we can hear from you what happened that day.'

'One of the reasons?'

'We will now hear from some of the survivors of the attack in Metropolis. People who have been impacted significantly by what happened.'

My name is Jeremy Miller.'

'Cynthia Rose.'

'Omar Hussain.'

'Rebecca Forester.'

'Kent Matthews.'

'Kasia Erickson.'

'When the broadcast happened we thought it was a hoax.'

'It was something out of a movie.'

'My parents were visiting me.'

'When the news channels started reporting that that broadcast had been heard around the world.'

'We were scared. I'm not ashamed to admit that.'

'We didn't think anything would happen, though. Why would it?.'

'They wanted this "Kal-El" person and it was obvious that the world would hand him over.'

'It was the simplest and easiest thing to do.'

'When the spaceship came down and hovered over Metropolis.'

'We ran,'

'The roads were jammed.'

'There was no way out of Metropolis then.'

'Should we have tried to leave sooner? Perhaps.'

'My fiancée got pulled from my hands and I saw her fly up into the air.'

'And then down.'

'I heard the…'

'I'm sorry, I need a moment.'

'Then he came and put a stop to everything

'I heard some people say that he had saved us but I could only wonder

'Where had he been when they were using that beam?

'What took him so long?'

'Thank you,' says Senator Finch. 'I can only imagine how hard this has been for you. For all of you.

'And that brings us to one of our main questions, Kal-El: where were you when Metropolis was being attacked.'

'The Kryptonians were attacking on multiple fronts, Ma'am, and it was agreed, with certain members of the US military, that I would tackle the problem South East Asia.'

'And what problem was that?'

'An immense machine called a 'World Engine' had been deployed and it was believed I was the only one who could handle the situation there.'

'Believed. Based on what?'

'The relative ineffectiveness of the military weapons we used earlier in Smallville. Nothing had been able to affect them and with the machine being what it was it was reasonable to-'

'What was the machine? Why was it considered so dangerous?'

'As I'm sure you've all seen in the reports and the various articles, the machine was designed to and capable of terra-forming the planet. It was the intent of the Kryptonians to change Earth so that it would be like Krypton.'

'And how would this machine have done that?'

'By breaking down the structure of the planet on a molecular level and then rebuilding it. By increasing the planet's mass and its gravity.'

'And what of us, or the ecosystem or-'

'Everything would have been wiped out. It's what some called an "Extinction Level Event".'

'But what tactical reason was there for you to attack that machine and not Zod and his ship?'

'Even if I had stopped Zod directly the World Engine would have continued.  _It_  needed to be destroyed so that the gravity beams and other effects would then be stopped. The Black Zero – Zod's spaceship – tempered the World Engine.'

'So you chose to abandon America,' interrupts one of the other Committee members.

'Excuse me?'

'You brought the Kryptonians to our homes and then left us to deal with them.'

* * *

_The First Church of Superman – webcast lead by Pastor Papp_

'They seek to besmirch our Lord.

'They accuse Him and blaspheme and He holds back His Righteous Anger.

'They fear Him, as well they should, but show folly in their hubris.'

* * *

'By your own admission,' says Senator Finch, 'the Kryptonians came here because you activated an ancient scout ship and it sent out a beacon.' She holds up a hand before Superman can interject. 'That the ship  _may_  have been activated after we excavated it from the ice is something we can never know. The advanced nature of Kryptonian technology is such that it is unlikely that that would have happened.

'Your escape negated any tentative peace agreement that had been achieved through your surrender to General Zod, and it is arguable that he would have chosen an alternative planet to terraform.

'You knew of the existence of World Engines but did not inform the likes of General Swanwick or Emil Hamilton until after it had been released.

'I think we are in agreement here, Kal-El.

'Let the record show that this committee holds him responsible for the deaths and injuries that occurred in the Metropolis Incident. Let the record also show that this committee holds him responsible for the destruction and damage to property and infrastructure in Metropolis and elsewhere in the world.

'This committee hearing is adjourned. Thank you.'

* * *

**One Year Ago**

_Themyscira_

The temple of Dione has been frequented less and less since the Great Barrier was erected around the islands, but the Amazons continue to honour the traditions they have maintained for millennia and ensure the upkeep of all the temples on the islands. The two priestesses who reside in the temple grounds have been friends long before the Amazons came together and founded Themyscira, but their bond has never been tested the way it is now.

The sacred fire before them emits purplish smoke and, lost in their trances, the two friends, sitting on either side of the flames, have been breathing in deeply and, steadily, digging their nails into each other's hands as they rock back and forth.

A mile or so away, the young woman with the gift of flight is deep in conversation with a deer and some birds. 'It's unlikely that Mother will allow me to go again,' she says in Greek. 'If they hold the contest again she will do whatever she can to make sure I don't take part so, no, I don't think either of you have anything to worry about, my friends.'

A distant sound catches her attention and the birds dart into the air, chirping loudly. 'Hurry. I'll be close behind,' she shouts out, as she dashes into the trees. The further she runs the clearer the sound becomes, and she begins to run faster as the screams begin to overlap each other.

Energy crackles around the priestesses and their laps are soaked red. The purple smoke thickens and darkens, and the priestesses' heads snap back and they scream again.

'Sisters, please,' says the young woman, uncertain as to what she should do, and then, suddenly, the priestesses are silent and still and the smoke hovers in place. Tears streak their faces as their eyes open and they stare at nothing. 'What did you see?' she whispers, and then nods at one of the birds and watches it for a second as it hurries away.

'The Oracles of Dione are tied to Zeus,' says the Queen. She watches as other priestesses from other temples examine the two of Dione. 'But his will has never been expressed like this, and certainly not in Themyscira.'

'Perhaps it is because we have a man on the islands,' says the armoured Amazon standing to her right.

'Perhaps, but unlikely as he has been here for many months now. No, this is something else. Something from beyond the Great Barrier.'

Energy crackles from the still hovering smoke and the armoured Amazon steps in front of the Queen. The smoke expands and envelops all of the priestesses, holding them in place, and they speak and the Amazons see:

' _Darkness is coming, and with it Light.'_  The sky is filled with figures wearing capes and beings of shadow and demon-like wings.

_'The Scythe cuts through and all comes apart.'_  A tear appears in space and stars and systems are pulled towards it and then spat out.

_'The Alphas will rise as the Omega descends but together or all will fall.'_  Beams of light of a myriad of colours clash and explode and a plain of fertile land becomes a pit of fire.

_'The False God will show his colours and the sun will shine.'_  A red cape flaps in the wind, torn and dirtied.

_'Men of Metal thirst.'_  Shadowed beings with red and purple eyes look down on Earth from within a skull.

_'A Great Eye will open and the Sea-King will call.'_  The infinite void tugs at some of the Amazons and they step towards the smoke. The image then becomes that of millions of sea life fleeing something and the Amazons are released from whatever had pulled at them.

_'The Hand. The Great Hand. Crushing all!'_  Worlds are held like marbles in the palm of massive hand, and the hand closes and clenches and everything explodes.

'Too much! Too much!' scream the priestesses, and they cling to each other, eyes wide and fearful, and try to breathe. The thick smoke rises and begins to fade, showing shadowy images of an Omega symbol, an eye, and a hand.

* * *

_Temporary Structures of S.T.A.R. Labs, Metropolis_

'This,' says Dr Stone to a group of teenage students touring S.T.A.R. Labs, 'is Lab One. I know, I know, you're all probably more interested in the genetics research in Lab Thirteen, but this is also something special.'

They're standing on a viewing platform, looking down on a room large enough to house half a dozen 747s. The room is sectioned but it's clear that there are dozens of projects going on – from reaction chips to energy weapons to reverse engineering wreckage.

'This is all one lab?' asks one of the students.

'It's sub-divided to around a thousand smaller labs, but we group them as one. Overall, this area deals with cybernetics. It's early days yet but we were all eager to get started, so that's why it looks a bit…crowded.'

'Do you get to look at alien tech?' asks another.

'We do,' says Dr Stone, pointing over to an area where a team is examining a piece of wreckage. 'Contrary to what some in the media have been saying, that's no secret. It's one of the reasons why all of us have come together. It's also the reason why some of us hardly go home.'

* * *

_Istanbul Ataturk Airport_

Turkish Airlines flight TK007 to Washington DC is finalising boarding and, in the Economy cabin, Steve Trevor and Diana of Thymescira are getting ready to settle in for the eleven hour flight.

'Are you ready to go home, Mr Rogers?'

'Diana, please, call me Steve. At least out here.'

'Maybe in time,' she says, smiling. She turns to the lady ahead of her and offers to help her with her overhead luggage, smiling more when the lady tells her that it's heavy.

'I still don't understand why we ended up in Turkey.'

'This is where we needed to be. That's all we need to know.'

'It doesn't make sense.'

'Steve, trust me. The Fates will guide us.'


	4. Chapter 4

18 months ago

_Ellesmere Island_

Although most of the island is covered in snow and ice and is inaccessible, there are parts that are rocky and clear, and there is some vegetation – mostly moss. The Mountains of Grant Land are a jagged chain of rocks encompassed in ice nearly a kilometre thick, and it is near them that several square miles have been cordoned off as teams of scientists and analysts study the rock and ice in an area that used to be buried. Ten miles away are a series of caves that have also been long buried under ice and snow. At the foot of a cliff the ice shifts, threatening to crumble and fall and create an avalanche. A tunnel has been formed recently, and the area around its mouth is slick with ice, while small and newly formed stalactites cling to the roof. Over a mile deep, half a dozen robots burrow away with heat-tipped drills and 'flat-iron' compressors digging into the dense ice and shoring up the tunnel's walls. The ice-wall at the end of the tunnel cracks and breaks and hiss sound escapes into the tunnel. The lead robot pauses to assess the situation before a flat-ended probe extends and pounds against the ice like a battering ram. The wall caves in on itself a little and the robot uses its battering ram again and the ice falls away, backwards, and reveals a small cavern.

A couple of robots behind the lead one scamper across the threshold and begin to scan the area. After a couple of moments and a series of beeps they shuffle to the side, shift and morph, and illuminate the areas around them. The cavern is filled with stalactites and stalagmites but, in the middle of it, is a small pile of rocks that looks like it has been melted together. Etched on the wall at the mouth of the cavern are drawings of shields and images telling a story of how something massive fell from the sky and how, from that object, came a being, wounded and dying and raging; how it wrought destruction and then fell; how they feared to go near it until another being came and buried it and sealed it.

A couple more robots come forward and position themselves around the grave and being cutting into the rock.

* * *

8 months ago

**Officials Seize Hidden Alien Tech**   _\- Daily Planet online article (extract)_

"War breeds innovation", according to many, and "is the driving force of human civilization". There are, however, those who contend that invention (or innovation) is the mother of war.

"There's a war coming," said Doug Atkin, CEO of the NAW Group, prior to his arrest this morning. "It might not be because of aliens invading us, but war is coming. People have seen what's possible. It's not fiction anymore and we would be foolish not to be ready or grab  _any_  opportunity to make sure we're the last ones standing."

There was an abundance of zealousness in the boardroom as the Special Crimes Unit, working in conjunction with several federal and international agencies, moved in and arrested not just members of the board but numerous tech staff and supervisors in NAW's corporate headquarters and, across town, in its R&D buildings.

"The fact is a lot of supposedly powerful people across the globe are scared, so there's a lot of money to be made and very quickly," according to an agency source, "but, more than that, these items are dangerous beyond just being potential weapons. For the most part, we don't know what their power sources are, and we don't know if there are any pathogens. We simply don't know a lot of things right now."

Since the foiled invasion there have been numerous reports and instances of what appeared to be "caches of alien technology" uncovered across the globe. Experts, however, have pointed to the overall lack of Kryptonian debris outside of Metropolis and the island and have expressed doubt over the authenticity of some of the finds.

The actual availability of Kryptonian technology is quite limited, with the vast amount located in the area where the World Engine was destroyed. Although it is known that the Kryptonian ship that survived the Metropolis Incident headed north, its exact whereabouts are unknown.

Dr Magnus of S.T.A.R. Labs is of the view that "right now there is a major shift in world power. America is no longer seen as the strongest nation and its arsenal is no longer considered the most powerful."

* * *

_The Batcave_

_'This night was supposed to be ours!' cries a shrill voice. 'Calendar Man and Clock King!'_

_'The fates, the timing, this bread!'_

_'The Lughnasadh!'_

_'The Lammas!'_

_Grunts and groans can be heard and then, on the large screen that forms the main console, the unconscious images of two costumed males appear. One wears a dented clock-face mask, the hands fixed at ten minutes past ten, and a royal-esque cape; the other a red trench coat engraved with dates and occasions, and the months of the year tattooed in a band around his head._

_Green and grey images flit across several other screens, and there is laughter._

_'C'mon,' says a young voice, 'all you have to do is push off a little harder and tuck your head in little sooner.'_

_'It's inefficient,' growls another voice. 'That split second extra in the air is all someone needs to get a bead on you.'_

_'But it's cool! You know you love to fly!'_

_Grey and green images of the city pan across the screen and then the 'camera' angles down and, a few feet away, a boy with dark hair and a short cape is crouched between the shoulders of a gargoyle, the two of them looking out over Gotham._

_'They are a bit weird, though,' he says. 'I mean, stealing an ancient loaf of bread in order to bring about an apocalyptic harvest isn't exactly normal, right?' He shifts a little and then springs backwards, somersaulting and landing gently. 'Like we're ones to talk,' he grins._

_'I'm hoping you can help me,' says a new voice and the images swirl and stop at a wall bathed in shadow. The colours shift and letters appear at the bottom of the image as the 'camera' switches between modes in order to get a better visual. All that can be discerned is that there is a large man in jeans and a t-shirt hiding in the shadows._

_'Holy rooftop encounter, Batman!'_

_'I didn't mean to startle you,' says the voice, quivering a little. 'I…I thought you might have heard me approaching or something. I've been looking for you and I want you to teach me.'_

_'Go home, kid,' rumbles the second voice._

_'Please.'_

_There's the sound of heavily compressed air being released, followed by another, and then the images rush towards the ground and arc and rise._

'I've uploaded the remainder of Professor Winton's journals.' says Alfred, as he sets down a food-laden tray. 'Ms Gordon's algorithms are cross-referencing them with the lab notes and data you pulled from the old servers.' He gestures at the screen and the 1998 date-stamp and asks: 'An old case?'

'A potential answer.'

'To?'

'Who that was.'

An image of the man in the shadows is frozen on the screen and small analytics-boxes appear – with text and code scrolling through them – before the computer announces that "Facial recognition is impossible".

'You said he was fast. Gifted but untrained.'

'Now I think he may have been something more.'

'More?'

_On the screen, the Batmobile is viewed from above and then seems to rush in closer, as if a camera has zoomed in on it. The tops of boots and parts of what look to be thighs are visible at the bottom of the footage. The roof of the Batmobile shifts and draws back to reveal the cabin and the caped boy leaps onto the headrest on the passenger side and holds a handstand._

'He wasn't from Gotham. He told us that much, but he knew the rooftops. He knew our route, and he got there faster than we did.'

'He also knew who you were, I recall.'

'I told myself I was mistaken. That it was just a side-effect from the gases Calendar Man and Clock King had used earlier. The cowl wasn't configured to record it and Dick didn't hear it.'

'He wasn't wearing the amplifiers.'

_There's brief swirl of movement and small objects whizz away from the 'camera' towards some dumpsters. A hand is extended into the only light source and in it are three batarangs._

_'I'm more than I seem, sir. I can promise you won't be disappointed.'_

_'I already have a partner,' growls the voice. The 'camera' turns briefly and the caped boy can be seen crouching on the roof on the Batmobile, ready to leap into action._

_'I'm not here to take his place. I'm just here to learn and to help.'_

_'Go home, kid. You're a long way from Kansas.'_

Bruce pauses the footage and turns to Alfred. 'His accent was a giveaway, and he didn't say anything about who I was, which only reinforced my belief that I had imagined it earlier. As strange as the whole thing was, and even though this was a little after we had begun to suspect someone had learned who we were-'

'Dick always called it the "Moriarty Discovery".'

Bruce smiles, sadly, 'Always.' He allows the footage to continue:

_'If you would give me a chance,' says the t-shirted young man in a deeper voice, 'I can help. The work you're doing, it's why I'm here. Please.'_

The footage freezes again and the computer plays another recording – an audio-only one: 'The Kryptonians were attacking on multiple fronts.'

"Voice analysis complete," it announces. "Eighty-six percent match."

'Oh,' says Alfred.

'At least we have one truth: he has been on Earth for a while.'

* * *

_Kent Farm, Smallville_

It's night and Martha and Clark are standing at the fence bordering the farmhouse garden, looking out over the moonlit fields of corn.

'I hoped it would get easier,' says Clark.

'Hasn't it?'

'A little. Only-'

'You thought they would be more accepting by now?

'Hoped.'

'We always knew it would be hard if you ever did come forward, Clark. I thought it may have even been impossible, but, despite everything, your father believed that if and when the time came then everything would fall in to place.'

'There are so many people out there who need me to do what I can do, and there are so many who want to stop me or try to tell me that I'm doing things wrong.

'Sometimes, at the camps, when I carry in the food and supplies, seeing and hearing their thanks, I feel their hope. Then, in other places where I see and hear the greed and machinations, I wonder if I should be doing things differently. This farm, and places like it, maybe I should be here doing something that will last instead of out there doing something so...temporary. Maybe Dad was right and growing food-'

'Oh, be serious. This place would never have been able to keep you. Your ears would never let you shut out the pleas for help.'

Clark looks to the sky for a moment and then turns to Martha and says, 'I can't be me anymore.'

'You're you now, aren't you? The cape doesn't define you, Clark, and it never will. You held back because the world wasn't ready-'

'It still isn't.'

'It's a truth we tried to protect you from and then help you with: People hate what they don't understand. Be their hero, Clark. Be their angel, be their monument, be anything they need you to be… or be none of it. You don't owe this world a thing. You never did.'

'This world gave me you. I owe it for that at least.'

Martha smiles and says, 'Silly,' and they embrace. She pulls away and looks at him a little more seriously. 'How are things with you and Lois? She hasn't been here for a while.'

'She's well. We're okay. We're just-'

'Busy, I know. You tell her to take it a little easy, okay?

'Like she'll listen to me,' he laughs, and they hug again.

* * *

The  _Wildcat Gym_  in Gotham needs several coats of paint and a couple of deep cleans, but it's a popular training ground for boxers despite the way it looks. Some are of the view that it's popular because of the way it looks. And smells. Thirty years ago, after his father was found shot dead, Ted Grant III inherited the place, and he hasn't changed much about it since then.

The ring at the back of the gym is relatively new compared to most of the equipment, and was installed long before the sport using octagonal fight rings became popular, and it's also around four times larger. Although the Sweet Science is dear to Ted's heart, he, and his father before him, have long advocated learning from the various styles of the martial arts world.

Friday nights at  _Wildcat_  is the Rumble. On average, fifty-three fighters take part in a competition akin to a 'winner stays on'. It starts with two fighters facing off, with the winner of that fight then facing two other fighters. If the first fighter defeats both newcomers he then faces three new ones, and then four and so on. If the winner of the first fight loses against the two fighters in the second fight then they fight each other and the winner of that fights two others and so on.

Tonight is a special night – for the first time in a long time, Ted Grant III put out a call to 'the best of the best', and the 'best of the best' are losing to a man in a stained white mask.

The man is hurt – there are bruises all over this body – and is breathing heavy, but the final four fighters are wary. The crowd urges them to move in and fight. The masked man stands, arms to his side, and breathes and waits. His fingers twitch and blood slowly runs down them from under his gloves. Three of the fighters move in together, rushing at him, and he turns suddenly, snapping out a side-kick at the one in front of him while grabbing the forearm of the one to his left and pulling him round and into the one coming in from the right. He spins again, lower, and drives his elbow into the stomach of the one he had pulled before turning again and grabbing him by his face. He lifts him up into the air and then slams him into the ring-floor. The one that had been hit with the side-kick rolls on his back, from side to side, covering his face with his hands as he tries to breathe.

The fourth one steps in suddenly, coming in low and then turning on the ball of his right foot before snapping out a kick with his left. He misses and, as he continues the turn, the masked man dashes in and 'body checks' him, and then drives his fist into the fighter's face.

The crowd roars, demanding more, and the masked man stands near the middle of the ring for a few seconds before bowing to the last of his defeated opponents. The gate to the ring is pulled open and Ted gestures at the stairs while scowling at crowd as some of them try to push forward.

'You're really back?' he asks, as he closed the door to the changing room and shut out the noise.

Checking over his injuries, the only response from the masked man was: 'Hnh.'

'I can still see your right cross a mile away, though,' Ted laughs and pats him on the back. It's almost like a father expressing pride in his son. 'It's good to see you again. Is this it? Are you ready?'

'I think so,' he replies as he flexes his fingers and begins to loosen the wrappings. His voice is deep and rough but almost a whisper – so much of one that Ted leans in a little in order hear him better.

'And the kid? The first one?'

It's only a split second but it's long enough for Ted to notice – a pause as he unwrapped his right hand, and then silence.

'No,' he breathes. 'What happened? When?'

The masked man doesn't look at him. Instead, as he pulls on a sweatshirt, he picks up a trench coat and begins to walk away.

'Metropolis?'

'Don't tell anyone about me yet.'

'I won't. You know that.' Ted stands a little taller and raises his fists to his chest. 'Just as you know if you need me then Wildcat's ready to return, too.'

'The world's changed,' he says, removing the mask. 'I just might have to take you up on that.'

* * *

_Channel 52 News – Bethany Snow_

'It has now been more than a year since everything changed. Despite the actions and initiatives of governments and aid groups there are still tens of thousands of people living in dire situations in refugee camps. Coupled with those affected by the recent and ongoing wars and natural disasters, it is estimated that the total refugee population, across the world, is now 20 million, with the number of people displaced now passing 30 million.

'Some are of the view that two of the key projects spearheaded by the newly-formed S.T.A.R. Labs and aided by Superman, are, and I quote: "to blame for the continuing high number of refugees. The sanitation and water projects have resulted in a massive problem by a creating a situation in which the usual outbreaks of disease and death are not happening. There has also been an increase in the number of successful childbirths, which further compounds the pressure on already limited resources."

'Superman's intervention in the supply chain for aid packages is also having an impact, and people like G Gordon Godfrey are not happy with it.

'"Aid relief has always been staggered. It has to be in order to work properly. Negotiations have to be made and deals brokered before aid convoys can gain safe access, but this alien just turns up at an aid depot, picks up a load of pallets, and then flies off to a deliver them. People think he's doing a good thing, but there's no process, no checks, and no control over where and who is getting the aid, and that is a dangerous and absolutely untenable situation."'

* * *

_Daily Planet building, in the office of Perry White_

'You know I'm right on this,' says Lois as Perry looks over her notes, laying them out on his desk.

'One thing we've learned over the past year is that we don't know anything, Lois. This,' he points at some drawings of a bullet and a report next to them. 'What's the angle you're going for?'

'The separatists have new weapons.'

'Alien?'

'No, not alien. Not this time. But the casings are different. That's why my source came to me. Techies are calling it some kind of super-bullet – it hits harder the further it travels, and it hits like a mini grenade at short range.'

'Like an RPG?'

'Worse.'

'Speculation?'

'Tested. It matches something that was apparently withdrawn years ago.'

'And you're absolutely certain?'

'I've seen the footage.'

'Footage can be doctored, Lois.'

'That's why I'm here.'

'What's the ask?'

'DC, to follow up on some leads.'

Perry looks at the notes for a few more seconds before gathering them up and handing them to Lois. 'Three days. If there's something worth running with then fine, otherwise I need you back on the Cadmus review.'

She smiles as she takes the bundle of papers from him. 'You know I'll do both,' she says.

'You better.'

* * *

_ML News 1_

'In the last few months, Metropolis' skyline has changed dramatically. While the area that received the most bombardment from the Black Zero remains relatively untouched, the surrounding zones have gone through wide-scale construction and restoration. When asked about 'ground zero' and its current state, Mayor Berkowitz said:

'"…as civil engineers continue their investigations into finding ways of reconnecting not just utilities and sewage but the mass transit links, too, the  _safety_  of Metropolis' citizens remains paramount. I think everyone will agree that work should only be started once we know exactly what those energy blasts did down there."

'The overall speedy revival of the city has been widely lauded, however, elsewhere on the East Coast:

'"Metropolis is a major financial centre, fine, but we lost our homes years ago and are still waiting to be able to go back. All this shows is that we're not worth anything in the eyes of the government."

'"Big Business was  _encouraged_  to rebuild and invest – we've been left with handouts and our own graft."

'"You know someone who  _has_  made a difference? Superman. There's a reason why some people worship him, and more are starting to."

'"Yeah, he isn't just Metropolis. He's all over the world and that's what's got the higher-ups scared."

'With me now in the studio is G Gordon Godfrey. What are your comments in light of-'

'"Throughout history Messiah figures have been a source of trouble, and that's exactly what Superman is: trouble. The Lowlies…I'm sorry, the common-folk accept him because they interpret his actions as ones of "helping" them. He's not helping. He's not even a plaster on a graze – no, he's an  _infection_. He shows up in a wounded area and does something that looks like it's helping when, really, all it's doing is making things worse.

'"You have people sitting on rooftops waiting for Superman to save them instead of climbing into a rescue boat. You have navigators ignoring their duty of care because they think he'll come and stop the ship from sinking. His presence is actually making people mad, just like an infection can cause delirium.'"

* * *

**World mourns passing of philanthropist**

To many, Gerard Shugel was a man in his fifties who strove to use his fortune to make the world a better place. Gerard Shugel was over 90-years old, and a genius.

For most of his life he was unknown and unheard of by the public, but those involved with space exploration considered him to be one of the key minds behind heat shielding, re-usable spacecraft, and rocket propulsion – although he always attributed the latter to the late Delores Winters.

Over more than five decades, Mr Shugel funded, established, and maintained science and engineering schools across the world with the aim, he said, of "giving the right tools to the right people. Intuition is part of our genetic make-up, and society stumbles when those who are gifted are not allowed to achieve". It is through the concepts and methods developed by his students in Africa that parts of the Sahara have become arable land.

Mr Shugel's outspoken stance against the Vietnam War resulted in him and his various companies being ostracised by the US Government, and his relocation to an area of the then Soviet Union. Sanctions were imposed and even extradition orders were made, yet the only statement made by Mr Shugel about all this, in public record, was that "the Soviet Union will be disassembled and things will change. Moldova will become its own nation and what will remain, when all is done, will be opportunities to rise."

When the Soviet Union was officially dissolved in 1991, and Mr Shugel's 'outlandish predictions' came true, the sanctions were lifted and he was welcomed back to the US with open arms. Although it has never been confirmed, political historians and analysts, to date, believe Mr Shugel was a key mover in lifting the Iron Curtain and ending the Cold War.

With sanctions lifted and an access to funds, Mr Shugel stunned the science and aerospace worlds with the discoveries and designs he had made over more than thirty years, and the birth of the International Space Station project.

At the dawn of the new millennium, Mr Shugel announced his most ambitious undertaking to date: Broadcast.

"For a long time we have known we cannot rely on just one type of energy, and huge efforts have been made to diversify. On the ground there are dozens of solar, hydro, geo-thermal, and wind projects, but each one has its limitations.

When announcing the venture Mr Shugel said: "There is no doubt that Nikola Tesla was and is a man of inspiration and a man born before his time. If anyone deserves the title "The Man of Tomorrow" it is him. It's his vision, his hope, that led to what I hope to gift the world in his honour – accessible energy without the need for pollution-creating power stations or landscape ruining power lines."

The project, however, was not to be. The lack of support from key international governments, as well as the widespread propaganda against it, resulted in the satellites that had been developed remaining grounded.

After the events of the Metropolis Incident, Mr Shugel was considered a de facto world leader as he helped pull together not just the corporate leaders of Metropolis but governments across the globe in order to set everyone on a path away from chaos. Some speculated that this kind of good standing would lead to Broadcast becoming active, however Mr Shugel, tragically, passed away.

He leaves behind, so far as is currently known, no heirs.

* * *

_Online video_

Shaky camera footage of a group of teenagers speaking about a tenement fire. Behind them is a smouldering building, and Superman is walking with several firemen into the building while police cordon the area.

'The fire spread really quick,' says one of the teenagers. 'Our parents complained to management about the cladding before but no one gave a damn.'

'They're going to blame us,' says another. 'They always do. They'll say something lame nonsense about it being a firework or a barbecue.'

'I heard Superman tell them we were right, though,' says a third, excitedly. 'Maybe they'll listen to him.'

'Maybe with him on our side things can be fixed.'

* * *

Six months ago

**BATMAN RETURNS?**

The headline on the  _Gotham Gazette_  is accompanied by a large picture of a silhouette of a 'bat' between two buildings. Steve Lombard tosses the newspaper onto Clark's keyboard as he approaches Clark's workstation and leans against his desk.

'Looks like you don't get to miss out after all, Clarkie,' says Lombard.

'This is an old newspaper,' says Clark, pointing at the date on the page from almost a year earlier.

'Doesn't matter. That bat-storm-flock-thing that happened-'

'Colony.'

'Yeah, that. After that, other reports have been coming in. The gauntlet is back and it's all yours.'

'But no one's actually seen him.'

'That's the point, Kent. No one "actually" saw him before until he got caught on camera that one time and disappeared, and  _that_  makes this story bigger: "Is he the real thing? If he is, where has he been? If he isn't, where did this guy come from?" You're still a stringer. You need to prove yourself before you get the juicier assignments, you know that, right? I'm looking out for you here, Clarkie.'

Clark picks up the newspaper and looks at it and then at Lombard. 'Isn't this more suited for the  _National Whisper_?' he says, flicking it aside.

'Clarkie, Clarkie, Clarkie.  _This_  is a rite of passage. For over a decade – heck for two decades! – this was the story people wanted to break.  _This_  is the 'one that got away'.'

'How did you do?'

'Me? I never cared. Backhanders in the NBA? No problem. A group of guys with leather-fetishes? Not my kind of thing. I'm sticking to the sports' beat.'

'"Group of guys"?'

'No way was that just one man. It  _had_  to have been some elite squad on some millionaire's payroll, but no one could follow the money.'

Clark looks at the newspaper and smiles a little.

'The other question, though, if he is back, is what happened to the kids?' says Lombard as he walks away backwards, arms wide. Clark's smile fades.

* * *

Gotham City, 16 years ago

Searchlights from half a dozen helicopters scour the rooftops and, scattered across the cityscape, plumes of smoke rise into the sky. Sirens screech and horns bellow and dull explosions puncture the air.

An ambulance is being escorted through the streets when a manhole explodes and shunts it into the path of a tour bus. The air seems to thicken and the people on the street, hurrying to safety, watch, wide-eyed and open-mouthed as the ambulance turns in the air and then, somehow, rights itself and, tyres squealing, continues on its way.

Above the city, as councilmen, union leaders, lawyers, fund managers and so on are being taken into protective custody, Batman, Robin, and a half dozen other vigilantes tackle the rooftops as they try to counter a 'ninja invasion'. A splinter group from the League of Assassins, led by Ebeneezer Darcel, has declared war on the main body of the League and has set its sights on taking over Gotham and turning the city into its  _known_  base of operations, after getting rid of those of 'misguiding influence' and culling its population.

In the shadows, a young man in jeans and a t-shirt watches the dynamic duo as they leap and tumble and fight groups of armed gang members and 'thugs for hire' that have been recruited by Darcel to bolster his numbers. Small bursts of heat are emitted by his eyes as he seals rooftop doors and blocks off He imitates some of their moves, occasionally landing a little too hard and cracking roofs and tiles. All the while, he's smiling, awed at the duo's skill and finesse and how aware they are of what is going on around them.

Crouching on a gargoyle, the young man tilts his head a little as he filters through the sounds around him and focuses on the conversation being held by Batman and Robin as they tie up their now-unconscious opponents:

'We have to split up,' says Batman. 'Canary and the others won't make it there in time.'

'So I'll go save the kids.'

The Batman doesn't say anything, yet, somehow, both of them know and understand and head off in different directions.

The young man stands, the wind tugging at his t-shirt, and concentrates on Robin. He looks beyond him and his eyes squint a little and then widen as he uses his enhanced vision. He sees through buildings, one by one, and then frowns as he finds the one he was looking for. A dozen children have been herded into a classroom. His mouth twists into a grimace and he dashes out of sight.

Batman walks towards a roof-top access door, his head turning from side to side as he looks over dozens of unconscious men lying on the rooftop. He crouches in front the door and prods at the soft metal of the melted lock. Squeezing his left glove the lenses in his cowl switch to infra-red and, beyond the door, he sees the heat signature of more people, all of whom are unconscious.

There's a whistling sound and Batman turns sharply, three Bat-shuriken in his right hand, between his fingers, and an elongated Batarang in his left. The young man lands heavily, cracking the roof and, as he slowly rises, his head and body covered by the shadow of the old chimney, Batman hurls the shuriken.

'Mr Wayne,' he says, tossing the shuriken aside. 'I'm here to help. I told you before: I'm more than you know, sir. I just want to make a difference.' He gestures at the city and continues: 'I've done what I can tonight. I think I've made things easier for you and the police, but I know there's more I can do. With your help.'

'Who are you?' says Batman, stepping forward with his hands slightly wide and away from his body.

'I can't tell you that yet. I just…I need you to trust me, as I'm trying to trust you.'

'Who trained you? You're too young to have been trained by Master Kirigi.'

'Please. Don't come any closer.'

'Then come out of the shadows.'

'I can't do that yet. You're too good at what you do and I'm not ready for you to know-'

'Then why come to me in the first place?'

'To see if you were like me. To see if, maybe… but… you're just a-'

'Maybe what?'

'It doesn't matter. What does is whether you'll help me.'

'Help you to do what?'

'Be like you.'

'You don't want this. You're good – better than I realised, perhaps – but this will overwhelm you.'

'I'm made of some pretty strong stuff.'

Batman kicks at the ground and holds up a melted sword. 'And this?'

'I have…'

'What?' he gestures with the sword at a pile of molten guns.

'Some gifts.'

'You've developed a weapon?'

'No, they're part of me.'

Batman's head tilts to the side a little as he looks into the shadows surrounding the young man, his night-vision showing a bright green blur and the infra-red showing an immense concentration of heat, and then, after a few seconds, he asks: 'Did Shugel finally make his super-soldiers?'

'What? Who?' His voice sounds his confusion and he coughs and says, 'No, I'm just-' in the distance he hears the sound of running and the flap of fabric and steps back a little more into the shadows. 'I made a mistake coming here again. I'm sorry. My father said the world wasn't ready for someone like me – maybe he was right after all.'

With those words, and before Batman can move, the young man turns away and dashes to the edge of the roof and jumps.

'No!' roars Batman, and he runs, drawing out his grapple-gun, and then, eyes to the sky, he slows down and watches as Clark's lands two buildings across from him, and disappears from sight.

'Looks like you didn't need me here,' says Robin, as he lands beside Batman. 'Sorry I took so long. Something strange is going on. Someone got there before I did and-' he sees the melted sword in Batman's other hand and asks, as he turns to look at the rest of the rooftop, 'what happened here?'

'Something…if true, then something terrifying, and something we're not ready for. Once this is over, we're going to Cadmus.'

* * *

Five months ago

World Engine Island is, in parts, a bustle of activity. For months, after the first batch of alien weaponry had been seized in mainland Europe, a UN embargo had been set up in the waters surrounding it, with warships from a dozen countries patrolling the area. The embargo also forbade Superman from being on the island, imposed after he had removed some parts of the World Engine a few weeks after the failed invasion.

Just beyond the edge of the patrol zone, high in the sky, hovers Superman.

'Kelex, what are the readings like now?'

'Scans indicate a two thousand percent increase in a number of xeno-materials, Kal-El. Current indications are that the effects of the World Engine will not settle for another eleven Earth months.'

'And the effect on my abilities?'

'Will be noticeable from a half mile from the edge of the island.'

'And it's not atmospheric.'

'Confirmed. Current supposition is the xeno-materials, but without samples there can be no accurate understanding.'

'What about the sea life?'

'None have yet returned and the flora has increased. There do not appear to be any new variations.'

'As yet.'

* * *

It's a simple truth: people are vulnerable and predators will hunt them. The massive influx of refugees from Metropolis and the East Coast overwhelmed Gotham's emergency services, leading to 'gaps' that were then taken advantage of by various trafficking networks. It's big business, and with so many from Metropolis with 'lost' identities, the demand for First World subjects is at an all-time high.

The Bat-plane turns into the old docklands, lights dimmed, and hovers.

'Take over, Alfred. Distract them a little.'

'Master Wayne. Remote pilot is now active. Thermal imaging is showing me two dozen hostiles on the third floor, with another dozen on the first. The…goods are in the rear basements, so why don't I drop you off on the second?'

The Batman steps onto the nose of the Bat-plane, just as the aircraft's lights flood the area, and leaps into the warehouse, smashing through the windows.

Over the years the Batman has found many ways to make aspects of his mission more efficient. Strategically placed magnets, for example, not only interfere with communications between his prey but also, when triggered, help with disarming and even striking them. It's an experience a number of Blackgate inmates share: their gun suddenly being pulled from their hand and smashed into their face. Others, however, have had a somewhat different experience, one of their gun being pulled downwards and their trigger-happy fingers almost taking a foot off. The more direct encounters are often short-lived and long-regretted – those who were knocked out by their own gun consider themselves lucky.

* * *

Paramedics and volunteers are gathered at the front of the warehouse, held back by a police cordon. The doors are wide open and groups of officers are positioned around the building. After a few moments, a couple of officers step out and wave at their colleagues.

'The kids are safe. Got a note saying to check the back of the second building down.'

Two warehouses away, as the gang lies unconscious, tied together in various groups, an armoured car approaches, its engine rumbling and the front grating stylised like a bat in flight. The doors to the car open and several men step out. A couple of them are wearing trench coats while others have capes on. All of them are wearing masks with horn-like 'ears'. There's a soft hum in the air as they approach the groups, and then sizzling and screams.

The headline to the early morning edition of the  _Gotham Globe_  says:

**BAT-BRAND OF JUSTICE**


	5. Chapter 5

Five months ago

Early morning in Gotham and the area outside the entrance to the Central Precinct is crammed with reporters and photographers, and all of them are being ignored. Standing to one side, Clark looks out over the crowd, notebook in hand, and takes some quick notes. His head is slightly turned, as if he's listening to something, and there seems to be a slightly vacant look in his eyes.

In the holding cells are four of the people who were arrested after the warehouse incident. One has an arm in a sling, another is wearing a neck brace, while the other two have bruised and swollen faces and tape on their noses.

'Don't touch me!' shouts a fifth man as an officer pushes him towards an open cell door. 'I want my lawyer to see this!' He raises his cuffed hands to his face and gestures at his right eye, which has swollen shut.

The cells fall quiet as the main door opens and another of the gang members is brought in. Unlike the others who had been arrested, this one is dressed in an orange jumpsuit. He's pale and sweaty and unsteady on his feet.

'C'mon, Joe,' says one of the officers accompanying him, 'just a few more feet and you can have yourself a nice sit down.'

'It wasn't right, what he did,' says Joe, softly.

'I know, Joe, I know. Look, just do what the doctor said, okay? Don't move too much.'

'I'm burning up, man,' says Joe, as he sits down and leans against the wall. The officer closes the door and walks away, glancing in on the other cells as he does so. Joe hisses with pain as he opens the jumpsuit a little and then grits his teeth as he touches the wet bandage wrapped around his upper chest – the stain is like a stylised bat.

* * *

_Captain Bullock's office_

The blinds have been pulled down on all the windows in the room, except one. There's a slight breeze from the open window that rustles some papers in a filing tray and a picture on the walls shifts a little. Captain Harvey Bullock walks in and slowly closes the door. He shrugs out of his jacket and drapes it over the back of a chair, pulling out the stub of a cigar as he walks over to his desk.

He pulls open a drawer in his desk and then walks to the windows and looks through one of the blinds and down at the crowd below. Their voices carry up to and through the open window but it's hard to make out any of their words.

In the open drawer sits a framed and somewhat aged photograph of three men, all covered in dust and grinning at the camera. The man on the left is a younger Bruce Wayne; in the middle, his hair and moustache peppered with grey, is Captain Gordon; and, on the right, cigar stub in his mouth and fedora titled to one side, is Detective Bullock. Next to the picture is a small bat-shaped shuriken and a disc with an 'R' etched in it. Harvey stares at the contents of the drawer and chews a little at the end of the cigar butt.

'Captain Bullock,' says a deep voice from the corner of the room. Harvey's head snaps up and he looks, for a brief second, to be excited. Clark steps forward, away from the row of filing cabinets and into the lighted area. 'Clark Kent of the Daily Planet.'

'I suppose you're not going to tell me how you go in here,' growls Harvey as he closes drawer and scans the room.

'Oh, I just dashed to a store room, climbed out the window, went up a drain pipe, shimmied along the ledge,' he points to the partially open window near a filing cabinet, 'and snuck into your office.'

'A comedian from Metropolis,' says Harvey as he looks over some documents on his desk. 'You're a little far from your Crime Beat, aren't you? What do you want?'

Clark steps forward, his shoulders a little hunched as he opens his notebook. 'There were rumours, years ago, that the GCPD worked with Batman in his crusa…his mission. Kept his activities a secret, and,' he points upwards, 'even encouraged him to-'

'And?'

'If The Batman has returned-'

'Or people pretending to be him.'

'"People"? Is the GCPD sanctioning-'

'Don't be ridiculous.'

'Captain, please. The sightings these past few months are far more than-'

'People see what they want to see, and in Gotham the Bat is something people want to see.' He gestures at the windows and says, 'Especially now.'

'I understand that. I do. But after what happened last night?'

'We're looking into it.'

'They're saying at least six-'

'Were branded, yeah. They're being tended to in Gen and a couple of others. You probably know that, too, so you could always poke around there if you want.'

Clark shakes his head, adjusts his glasses, and says, 'Captain, you're one of the few people who were there five years ago when-'

'Anything you want to know is in the IA report or the Council's ruling.'

'I want to know about before all that. How you all started working together. Maybe even endangered-'

'Listen, Kent,' snaps Harvey, pointing his finger at Clark. 'Commissioner Gordon was a good man and he gave his  _life_  for the people of this city, there's no way he would have sanctioned anything that put them in danger.'

'I understand that, Captain, but-'

'But, nothing.  _He_  was the one who put together the first anti-vigilante team all those years ago.'

'He's also the one who convinced then-Commissioner Loeb to install the Signal.'

'And, what? The people  _of_ Gotham welcomed it. After a while. They needed something…someone to help them claw their way out of hell.'

'Is that why you turned it back on during the riots? To convince people the Batman was back?'

'It worked, didn't it? Like I said, he was what the city needed.' Harvey starts chuckling and shakes his head. 'There's something about you, Kent. Something that…maybe that's how you get your stories, by being someone people can trust. That's quite something for a journalist.'

Clark doesn't say anything. Instead, he waits for Harvey to stop laughing before he continues: 'And now?'

'What about now?'

'Rumours have been spreading for the past few months and things are starting to escalate, so I'm asking you: do you know if he's back?'

Harvey sighs heavily and looks at the cigar butt between his fingers. 'No, I don't know. I'm going to be straight with you about this, I  _hope_  he's back. I hoped it was him that put the scare in people in the riots, but it wasn't.'

'Why?'

'C'mon, do you really need me to say these things?'

'It can't hurt.'

'He's a symbol, or at least he was. It's no secret that I hated him when he first…when rumours about him first started all those years ago. Didn't believe them at first, the whole spooky 'spirit of Gotham' schtick, and it pissed me off that he, it, whatever was making us look bad.

'Then the Families began to get scared and started making mistakes. That was a turning point for me. I'm not a good man,' he points the cigar butt at Clark, 'but you already know that, don't you? I'm not a  _good_ man but I  _am_  a good man, but good men could only do so much in Gotham. Lots of them tried. The Waynes, The Davenports, Jim…but The Batman, or Batmen as some believe, they were good men with an advantage, and that pissed me off even more.'

'Money?'

'Look at me, you think I'm Police because of the money? No, they had freedom to act. No red tape. Not condoning it, mind you, just…appreciating. Not saying it's the refugees' fault, mind, they're victims in all this, too, but we need…something.'

'When I said your name-'

'I thought it was him. I thought, "Finally, we're going to put things right". Five years is a long time and Gotham has been fine, but she needs him again.'

'What about the branding?'

'It's not him,' he growls, turning away from Clark, waving his hand dismissively.

'You're sure?'

'Does he break bones and noses? Sure. Does he put the scare in people? Absolutely. Would he  _brand_  anyone? Never.'

'Like you said, five years is a long time, Captain. Maybe something happened while-'

'He left  _because_  something happened,' says Harvey, shaking his head. He falls silent and turns his head away slightly. 'He didn't abandon us, though. He made sure the work we had all been putting in…the sacrifice Jim made…what happened with the kid.'

'Maybe that's why he's more brutal,' says Clark, softly.

'Maybe. Maybe. But he's not branding them.'

'I hope you're right.'

* * *

_Somewhere in the Rockies_

Suspended in a large tube filled with a yellow-green liquid is the withered body of a blond man. Wires and IV-lines are attached to him and, every five seconds a scanner scrolls up and down the tube, feeding images and data to an array of computers. X-ray, infra-red, CT, and ultrasound images are refreshed in time with the scanner and show that the body is regenerating, slowly.

Muttering to himself, Lex walks through the lab, head bowed slightly and hands behind his back. Dr Teng gestures at his team and they step away from their various workstations and make their way to the tube array. Lex looks up and smiles.

'Dr Teng. Team. How is Project Happenstance coming along? From the top.'

'Of course, Mr Luthor,' says Dr Teng. 'Our analysis of the ice in the cave indicates that the body was  _in situ_  for more than eighteen thousand years, the same as the ship that was discovered prior to the Kryptonian invasion.' He presses a few buttons and displays images of the body as it had originally been – withered, with skin taut over its bones and wasted muscles. 'It was basically mummified, but it's quite clear that it had experienced a massive amount of trauma before dying.'

'The scar on the face is old, and we're convinced it was formed long before he got to Earth. The area has reacted differently to the nutrient bath you devised than the rest of the body, except for these two parts here – whatever it is that etched this sigil into the chest somehow doesn't allow the flesh to heal properly.'

'And the hand?' The right hand of the body is somewhat deformed, with the skin raised and bumpy as if something is growing out of it.

'Something is embedded in there. Some kind of crystal. The layers of scar tissue show that he tried to dig it out but then-'

'His durability kicked in.' He taps on the glass and asks, 'Is it anything like the xeno-minerals on the island?'

'No, sir. So far the tests have shown it to be quite different.'

'But that may be because of interference from the body?

'Perhaps.'

'And extraction?'

'We used a sliver of the green xeno-mineral to take some samples from the body but the genetic and tissue degradation was immediate, which is why we haven't risked exposing his hand to it in order to-'

'I know, I know. Eighteen thousand years is a long time.'

'We're working on a way to repair the damage, including simulating variations of the nutrient bath and-'

'Splicing?'

'Nothing terrestrial has worked so far.'

'Nothing?' Lex doesn't look surprised, rather he looks quite amused.

'The closest we had was with Bison DNA, but even that-'

'But you've inserted what I asked?'

'Of course, sir. Once his brain has regenerated enough we'll be able test it and-'

'Of course, of course. And the genome project?'

'It's too early to say. We've had to come up with new sequencing methods. There's so much we've never seen before, so much to understand.'

Lex nods and smiles and says, ' _"The end then of Learning is to repair the ruines of our first Parents by regaining to know God aright"_ , you're doing good work here, all of you, but there is still much to do. Still much.' He reaches out to the tube again but doesn't touch it. His smile looks more like a smirk as he walks away, gesturing for everyone to continue.

* * *

_Daily Planet, Perry White's office_

Perry and Lois are standing on either side of a table set up away from Perry's desk. It's one of several he has in the office, each one covered with material dealing with certain parts of the regular edition of the newspaper. One table is dedicated to 'special projects', however, the table Perry and Lois are at is usually for the sports section.

'We still can't run this, Lois.'

'I know, it's just – gah! It doesn't make sense! Swanwick said the bullet was a WayneTech design from the late 80s-'

'And that the project was scrapped,' says Perry, holding up a sheaf of papers, 'and destroyed because the casings were unstable.'

'So where the hell did this stuff come from? It's  _exactly the same design_  but the techies say the material is new.'

'Maybe someone from WayneTech moved elsewhere, took the designs with them.'

'Winton was the only one working on this stuff.'

'He was the one developing the  _alloys_ , Lois, he wasn't the one deciding their application.'

'So maybe WayneTech  _hasn't_  stopped working on military tech?'

'That would be corporate suicide.'

'Would it? 'Super'-Gun purchases have gone up  _across the globe_. You wrote an editorial on it. Superman basically created a market for them. If WayneTech  _is_  making these 'super-bullets' and people believe it's because of him, they are going to buy them.'

* * *

_Channel 52 News_

'Waters continue to rise after the breach of Grand Coulee, and tens of thousands of people are currently without power. Moses Lake, Cheney, Spokane and Opportunity have been evacuated and reports have been coming in of massive trenches appearing across the area, diverting the cascading waters away from other towns and cities in the floodplains. There has been no visual confirmation but it presumed that Superman has been changing the courses of mighty rivers.

'A spokesman from the Bureau of Reclamation said:

'"We are looking into what happened and are confident that there was no breach. There is ongoing monitoring at the dam, and what we currently understand the situation to be is that there was a flood further upstream and the dam couldn't hold back the excess water. We're confident that there has been no breach.'

* * *

_Press conference at WayneTech Metropolis_

Luke Fox is still considered to be a newbie in the corporate world, trapped under his father's shadow, even though he guided Wayne Foods through a difficult seven years and has made it the sixth largest company in the Wayne Enterprises family.

'The events in Metropolis showed us there is much that can be achieved by working together, however WayneTech, in line with Wayne Enterprises and its subsidiaries, will continue to  _not_  provide direct services to the military.'

'But why is that? Surely your shareholders-'

'Military R&D is lucrative and, generally,  _very_  good for business. We have never denied that, but we believe we are in a position to do other things. LexCorp has made huge advances in cybernetic technologies, for example, and this partnership can help in making those advances viable and accessible options for people across the world. If this past year has taught us anything it's that we're all in this together and it's up to us to make the world a better place. WayneTech doesn't need to be working on military contracts to do so.'

'How does this impact your relationships with S.T.A.R.?'

'It doesn't. All of us are continuing to work together on other projects and developments – from biotech to construction and foods and so on. This is merely a branch from that tree.'

* * *

_The Batcave_

Bruce stands in the cave, watching satellite footage of Superman hovering near the island and the remains of the World Engine. He frowns when he sees Superman suddenly drop a few feet before maintaining his hover. He presses a couple of keys and the screen divides into six feeds, each displaying the footage under a different filter, and replays the footage. In one of the filters Superman is displayed as a golden figure but, as he drifts closer to the island he flashes black for a split second, and falls.

'Hnh.'

* * *

_The Shugel Advancement Trust Charity Auction, Metropolis_

A crowd of press and paparazzi is gathered outside the newly opened West Wing of the Natural History Museum in Metropolis. Sections of the museum had been affected by the pulses from the Black Zero and, as part of a restoration initiative, the new wing had been added. The inaugural event is in honour of the late Gerard Shugel in order to accommodate one of the requests in his will – the establishment of a trust and the initial selling of artefacts and antiques he had collected over the years in order to do so. In among the distinguished (and wealthy) guests comprising corporate and technological leaders, politicians, lawyers and doctors, are those specially invited from Shugel's various shelters from across the country.

'And what did you think when you were told about your invite,' Clark asks a couple of blushing teenagers. Their clothes are a little ill-fitting but they are well-presented.

'Honestly, Mr Kent,' says a dark-haired boy, 'I didn't think much of anything. It was a little sad.'

'Why was that?'

'I never met Mr Shugel. I heard about him at the orphanage in Fawcett City, and read about him, but I never met him. But without him, I don't know where I would be and… I can't thank him, but it's like you said before, in one of your articles a few months ago. In the  _Planet_ 's Junior Supplement? "We can thank others by being better", so that's what I'm going to do. That's what  _we_ ,' he gestures at the children around him, 'are going to do.'

Coloured lights start to dance over the attendees and music from Handel's  _Messiah_  plays and a spotlight tracks across the floor and stops on the stage, and on Lex Luthor. He's standing with one hand raised in the air, and his head slightly bowed. The guests begin to quieten and the music softens, and Lex lowers his arm and raises his head and speaks:

'Ladies and gentlemen, boys and girls, friends and friends. Thank you for coming tonight to help us pave the way to a better tomorrow.

'As some of you know, Gerard Shugel was like a father to me. It's in his honour that we're here today, and I'm humbled and privileged to have been asked to open this evening's events. I hope you don't mind, but I thought I would take this opportunity to tell you a little about Gerard and how… how our paths crossed.

'Years ago, as I tinkered away in a small workshop in the old docks, a man walked in and changed my life. I was building toy robots to sell for Christmas. I know that might surprise a lot of people but despite my father and his wealth and the ease it may have provided, one of the things he instilled in me all those years ago was reliance of self. Reliance of self but an awareness of knowing there was much to learn and others out there can guide and help. Not  _do_  but support.

'It's one of the reasons why we're here today – to  _support_  the people of Metropolis and other parts of the world,  _not_  to do things for them. We are the shoulders they need rather than the hands that will do.

'So, I was tinkering away, finalising half a dozen designs, when Gerard Shugel  _by-passes_  my security and, um, booby traps – I was still young, and booby traps were a thing – and walks into my workroom, scaring the living daylights out of me.

'I thought it was a prank and, I'll be honest with you all, I thought it was something my father had come up with as a little test. I mean, this was  _Gerard Shugel_. This was the man who had had the ear of every President since Johnson and had sourced out the team for NASA's development divisions. He was one of the wealthiest men in the world, a veritable genius, and would have no time to sneak into my little workshop like this.

'But it was him.

'As he stood there, looking over the room, I knew it was him, and I couldn't breathe. Then he picked up one of my robots and said: "The problem with genius, Lex, is that it is lost far too quickly. It's lost because, more often than not, we hold back. It's lost because we direct it at things that are better left to others."

'He held up the robot and said, "This is genius. It is. Yet it's wasted. The time you spent putting this together, putting  _all_  of these together, could have been spent in challenging that great brain of yours with other things."

'"Genius doesn't always need a follow-through. More often than not, it only needs oversight."'

'I didn't know what he was talking about. There I was trying to prove to my father that I could be independent, and Gerard Shugel was telling me I should be doing…something else. It took me a few years to appreciate what he was trying to tell me, and it's a lesson I'm imparting, on his behalf, onto Metropolis and the rest of the world.

'When the aliens came, he reached out to us – to me, to Stagg, to Kord, to Wayne, to Queen, and to so many others – he reached out to us and pulled us together. The sum of our parts and all that. When it was all over, he reached out to us again, and that led to the creation of S.T.A.R. Labs – a place where genius and achievement would go hand in hand and we could make the world better. A place where molecular biophysicists wouldn't have to stymie themselves in trying to put together models and -

'I'm going off on a tangent, aren't I? I'm sorry.

'Gerard Shugel taught me so much. He inspired me to take the initiatives to diversify LexCorp and take the company to new heights. He showed me how the ideas that were bubbling away in my head could be brought to life by others and that I didn't have to do things alone.

'When the attacks happened he showed us all,' he gestures widely, 'that we were all in this together.

'And that's why we're here today. Here, where hundreds of pieces of the history of mankind show us how we came together time and time again and grew from strength to strength. Here where, though part of me doesn't want to, we will divide these treasures in order to bring people back together again.

'I can see I've spoken a little longer than I should have, and I apologise for that. I'm going to chalk it up to grief and just ask you all to bid highly, dig deeply and help bring about a new and better tomorrow.'

The crowd – from guests to wait-staff to the musicians and so on – applaud and Lex smiles and descends from the stage.

* * *

The auction exhibition room is like a modern museum – there are pieces of artwork and swords and masks and other items on the walls, and plinths and pedestals displaying boxes and statues and other large pieces at various intervals. Some of the pieces have an attendee standing nearby and most have 'barriers' and 'do not touch' signs.

Bruce wanders through the display, unnoticed by most of those around him. He isn't paying much attention to the displays as he nurses a drink – or, at least, it seems like he's not paying much attention.

'I know I've asked this before, Master Bruce,' says Alfred, speaking to Bruce via a small earpiece, 'but is it really likely that Shugel would have arranged for his genetics research to be sold at this auction?'

'It's the only thing that makes sense right now, Alfred.'

'But after you and Master Dick put ruin to Cadmus-'

'Shugel took the projects underground.'

'We don't know if any of the…the  _enhanced_  you've uncovered this past year-'

'Right now, it's the only thing that makes sense, Alfred.'

'Well, the facial recognition software is running and I'll alert you if anything comes up.'

Bruce stops in front of a statue of Achilles, prompting an attendee to stand to attention as his leg brushes the rope barrier. He glances at the exhibit number, opens the auction guidebook and turns to the description of the display. In front of the statue, resting on a marble-esque stand, is a short sword. The metal of the blade is faded, but it's still sharp. The handle is a mixture of leather wraps and metal embedded with semi-precious stones.

'That's not the Sword of Peleus,' says a young woman, smiling. Her voice is soft and accented. She nods at the attendee, who smiles shyly and steps back.

Bruce looks up from the booklet, frowning. 'No? But the auction guide-'

'Is somewhat wishful in the magic it tries to claim.'

Bruce turns on the spot, gesturing at the exhibits – and casting his trained eye over the exhibition and everyone in sight – and says, 'So what else here isn't what it seems, Ms..?'

'Prince. Diana Prince.'

'Confirmed, Sir,' Bruce hears Alfred says. 'She's an expert in antiquities and…seems to have ties to – one moment, the databases are updating. Your little turn-around has sparked quite a bit of activity.'

'Bruce Wayne,' he extends a hand, smiling widely.

'Mr Wayne,' she takes his hand, shakes it firmly, and then let's go and takes the guidebook from him, tutting and awing as she flicks through it. 'Mr Shugel had a truly impressive collection, not just of Grecian artefacts, but from across the civilisations of the world.'

'So no magic?' His smile is a smaller one this time.

'Oh there's magic, Mr Wayne,' says Diana, her eyes serious and the smile leaving her mouth as she walks around him to stand on his left. She nods her head at the statue and holds out the guidebook. Bruce takes it from her and Diana says: 'Just not in that particular replica.'

'A replica? Of the real sword of Peleus?'

'The whole thing. The statue, the shield, the sword. This is all symbolic. No, the real sword has a haft of ivory. A forger would know that and make sure that the replica had one, too.' She lifts the sword and twirls it quickly before holding it horizontally, frowning slightly and then placing it back on the display. 'No, this is a replica of Kronos' scythe.'

Bruce laughs a little, 'You do realise,' he says, pointing at the "Do Not Touch" sign.

'That Mr Shugel left instructions for me to be the curator of his collection in the event of his passing?' She shrugs and smiles, too.

'So it's mislabelled? It doesn't look like a scythe,' says Bruce, continuing the conversation.

'Quite. He was  _very_  protective about his collection. Kronos' scythe is made of Adamantine and could easily cut through the metals and alloys your company produces.'

Bruce frowns at Diana's awareness and feels a little uncomfortable at being "ill-prepared". 'The scythe isn't listed, and as for metal like that...' His voice trails off as he notices several men in different parts of the room watching them.

'No, but it is here. Somewhere.' Diana begins to walk away, as if distracted by something or lost in her own thoughts.

'Ms Prince,' says Bruce as he tries to follow her, frowning as he analyses the men, watching them ostentatiously 'trace' their hands over some of the exhibits.

Diana turns a little and waves. 'I'm sure you have better things to do with your time, Mr Wayne. Enjoy, and bid high.'

* * *

As Bruce steps away from the statue his eyes are focused on a large plastic sign-stand that, because of the dark clothes of someone standing just behind it, is a little like a mirror from certain angles. What has caught his eye is the reflection of a blond man whom he had noticed had been observing the exchange with Diana. His lip turns up a little, like a small snarl, as he reads his lips: "Wayne's clean. Continue sweep."

'Alfred?' mutters Bruce.

'There are at least half a dozen government agents in attendance. The computers –'

'Keep going.'

Bruce turns and –

'Mr Wayne. Clark Kent-'

'Daily Planet, I know' says Bruce, smiling and taking Clark's hand enthusiastically. 'Missed out on acquiring that one.'

'Ah, acquiring?' says Clark, confused and a little bemused.

Bruce chuckles and waves a little dismissively. He steps back and stumbles a little on the rope barrier behind him, spilling his drink as Clark catches him. 'Your work precedes you,' Bruce smiles a little more and, standing a little taller, looks for somewhere to place his glass.

'My-'

'The trucker rapist a couple of years ago – that was  _exceptional_  detective work.'

'The...the trucker?'

'I'm a sucker for detective stories and that one…that one was  _really_  well done.'

'I wouldn't exactly call it a story, Mr Wayne. I know that's-'

'No, no, you're right. Terminology aside, it was good work, although I have to wonder why you never had your picture alongside your by-line, even at the  _Planet_.'

Clark adjusts his glasses and begins looking around the room a little.

'Ah, right,' Bruce laughs, patting Clark on the shoulder. 'The discomfort of having caught the attention of a billionaire playboy philanthropist.'

An elderly woman a few feet away beams at them and Clark coughs and his eyes widen a little.

'Not that kind of attention, Clark. Can I call you Clark?' he gestures for Clark to walk with him. 'No, not that kind of attention. Your pieces in the  _Planet_  this past year, especially about Suicide Slum and the ah, shall we call them the "gentrification proposals"? I think that sounds about right, yes.'

'You really have me at a disadvantage here. I just had a couple of questions and I'm only accompanying-'

'Lois!' says Bruce, loudly and cheerily, stepping past Clark with his arms wide.

'Bruce,' says Lois, smiling and quickly giving Clark a questioning look. 'Good to see you. It's been-'

'An age, I know. Slumped back into my reclusive habits for a while.'

'But now you've come out of your cave?' asks Clark, his voice a little deeper.

Bruce frowns at Clark's words but then says, a little pensively, 'You could say that, Clark. You could say that.' He steps to the side slightly, so the two are standing in front of him. 'Lois, I was just telling Clark how much I admired his Suicide Slum pieces.'

'He does good work,' she says, a little distracted as she checks her purse and pulls out a notebook.

'Yes, he does.' He stares at Clark's profile and his jaw clenches. 'Out of this world.'

Lois laughs and says, 'Well, I think he has his feet firmly on the ground, Bruce. Don't try to make your praises go to his head.' She looks out over the attendees and then says, 'I'm sorry, boys, but there's another billionaire I have to go see.' She holds up the notebook and says, as she excuses herself, 'unfortunately, he doesn't let anything get recorded so I have to do this the old-fashioned way.'

Clark and Bruce watch Lois disappear into the crowd before Clark tries to continue their conversation.

'Mr Wayne-'

In his ear, Bruce hears Alfred say: ' _There's a lot of missing data on Mr Kent. I'm having trouble finding a photograph of him after his high school year book._ ' He reaches out for another drink and says, 'Bruce, please.'

'Okay. Bruce. What made you change your mind about teaming up with LexCorp over-'

'Times have changed,  _Clark_.'

Clark frowns slightly at how sharply Bruce said his name. 'In what way?'

'Conspiracy bears fruit. There are now, among us, people of immense physical power.'

'There have always been people of power.'

'Of  _influence_ , I'd argue. Not physical power. Not in this way.'

'So it's because of fear-'

'It's because of balance. It's because of what we  _don't_  know.'

'And what's your opinion on The Batman and his activities?'

'Excuse me?'

'He seems different to before. The increased violence-'

'If he's back,' says Bruce, shrugging a little, 'then he's probably doing what he did years ago.'

'Civil liberties are being trampled on in your city and the people are living in fear. He thinks he's above the law.'

'The Daily Planet criticizing those who think they're above the law is a little hypocritical, wouldn't you say? Considering every time your hero saves a cat out of a tree you write a puff-piece editorial about an alien who, if he wanted to, could burn the whole place down.'

'Most of the world doesn't share your opinion, Mr Wayne.'

'Maybe it's the Gotham City in me, we just have a bad history with freaks dressed like clowns.'

'Be that as it may, The Batman spent years as an urban myth. Despite being revealed to be true five years ago, and then disappearing, why the brazen appearances now? Why shed the mystique? Why-'

'I can't pretend to know The Batman's mind, Clark, but I'd say "escalation". That's likely what it boils down to.'

'How so?'

'Your alien friend maybe created a power vacuum. There's him,' Bruce holds his hand high in the air and moves to stand next to Clark rather than facing him, 'advanced military' he brings his hand down level to Clark's neck, 'militia,' a little lower, 'mafia, gangs, and then us, the little people. The ordinary people. The ones in this area,' he circles his hand around the height of his and Clark's torsos, 'probably don't like the power shift so they're out there looking to pull things back.'

'And that's why The Batman has become so brutal? Why he  _brands_  people now?'

'Don't believe everything you hear, son. Some things aren't what they appear to be. Now, if you'll excuse me.'

Bruce walks away, nodding at a few people, and Clark, frustrated, scowls. His head snaps up, though, as he hears Bruce say: 'Alfred, dig up everything you can find on Clark Kent.' Clark turns and sees the group from Fawcett City waving at him, and he returns the wave, looks towards Bruce one more time, and mutters, smiling a little, 'about time.'

* * *

' _But now you've come out of your cave? I'm more than I seem, sir. I can promise you won't be disappointed._ ' The words roil about in Bruce's head and he stops beside a pillar and leans against it. Images flash in his mind's eye:

The rooftop encounter all those years ago.

_'I didn't mean to startle you. I…I thought you might have heard me approaching or something. I've been looking for you and I want you to teach me.'_

_'Go home, kid.'_

_'Please.'_

His mind carries him forward a little and this time he sees a massive corridor lined with glass tubes and cubes. Inside each one is an animal or person and, in the largest cube, is a massive albino gorilla.

 _'This place is_ in-sane _!'_

_'It's time to bring Cadmus down.'_

The third series of images are more violent, and Bruce gasps and hunches over a little:

_The building is a smoking ruin but the large metal door has bent inwards and formed a canopy of sorts. Bricks and metal are strewn all over the place and a pair of dark-gloved hands heaves on a large block and clears an area before grabbing hold of the bent door and pulling it upwards._

_Huddled on the floor is a teenager in a torn and bloodied costume. His face is caked in blood and dust, and the domino mask covering his eyes is shredded._

_'Jason,' says a rough voice._

_A dark-gloved hand reaches out and touches the boy's neck._

_'No. Oh, God, no.'_

Bruce pushes himself to stand upright but his breathing is shaky. He touches his brow and then rubs the beads of sweat between his fingers and thumb.

'Master Bruce?' asks Alfred. 'Are you okay?'

'I'm fine, Alfred.' Bruce moves away from the exhibition, towards a wide flight of marble stairs, and sits down.

'Sir, I  _can_  see you on the cameras.'

'I'm fine,' says Bruce, looking up and saluting. 'Anything on Kent?'

'Snippets from across the country, but nothing concrete at the moment, sir. Other than his move to Metropolis.'

Images of the ruins of the Wayne building in Metropolis flash and then of two coffins. Bruce hunches over again, breathing slowly. In his hands, he clutches and twists the auction booklet – tearing it. He shakes his head, forces himself to his feet and heads back into the auction-exhibit room.

'Anything on the agents?'

'Systems identify one as Steve Trevor, and agent of A.R.G.U.S and another as Andre Chevard of-'

'The  _French_  are here?'

'Apparently so.'

'So there  _has_  to be something happening-'

'It could be anything, sir. Shugel was involved in a number of…initiatives.'

'More than we'll probably ever know.'

* * *

'Dad, seriously? This looks like something out from an old sci-fi movie or something,' says a broad-shouldered young man. He's wearing a suit but doesn't look comfortable in it.

'I know, Vic,' says his father, 'but this is all part of our history.'

'It doesn't quite fit in the "natural" side of things, though, does it, Silas,' says Lex, as he approaches. Mercy is standing a little behind him, watching some of the attendees nearby. Lex touches the keyboard, tracing his fingers over the red, blue and green buttons around it. 'The IBM 1130 mainframe computer looks out of place among all these antiquities, but your father's right. This is all part of our history.'

Vic looks stunned and stammers, 'Mr Luthor?'

'World history.  _Local_  history is you, though, Vic.  _Seven_  running touchdowns in a game?'

'I didn't realise you were into football, Lex,' says Silas, as he puts his hand on Vic's shoulder.

'I like to keep an eye on as much as I can, Silas. I don't exactly have the build to play the game,' he says, spreading his arms wide, 'but I can appreciate the physicality. I hear the scouts were  _very_  impressed and are ready to tender offers, but, what  _I'm_  curious about,' he pulls out a small yellow disc. Engraved in it is an image of a double helix, 'is when you're going to return to the project your father told me about. We already have engineers working on the base casing, but-'

'You  _told_  him?' Vic hisses, shrugging off Silas' hand.

Silas quickly puts his hand on his son's arm and says, 'Vic, the math was-'

'I'm not your experiment anymore, Dad. You  _promised._ ' Vic steps away and mutters a 'thank you' as Mercy turns to the side to let him pass.

'I'm sorry, Silas. I thought I might have been able to encourage him to work with me on finalising the short-range teleportation equation.'

'It's okay, Lex. Like I said to you before, he's fixated on sports at the moment. Sports and tactics and manoeuvres. He'll come around soon, I'm sure.'

* * *

It's the arrangement of the statues, busts, and murals that catches Bruce's attention – from a distance they look like they belong together but, up close, it's clear that they've been  _forced_ together, and not just by being placed in the same area of the room and lining the temporary walls.

One is a beardless statue of Tinia – god of the sky and the highest god in Etruscan mythology. On his shoulder is the remains of an eagle and, in his right hand, is a 'rod of power'. At his waist is a thunderbolt.

Against a reinforced wall, differentiating itself from most of the other statues by its vivid pinks and yellows, is a grinning statue of Kala Bhairab, the Black Shiva the Destroyer. Four of its six arms are spread wide and in one hand is a large sword. A thick yellow rope trails from one of its other hands and across its chest.

A statue of Xiuhtecuhtli, the Aztec Lord of Fire, squats on a plinth, its arms resting on its knees. Beside him is a mural of the Ometeotl, the Two God of the Aztec religion, coloured in yellows and browns and turquoise.

Facing them on an opposite wall, a cauldron at his feet and a massive club in his hand, is the Dagda of Celtic mythology.

The bust of Khonsu, the ancient Egyptian god of the moon, sits slightly turned towards the walkway between the exhibits. It has the head of a falcon and holds the crook and flail in its hands.

In amongst the various figures and idols is an array of ancient weapons and, on a pedestal and seated on a slate of black marble, is a stone roughly the size of a person's palm. The plaque on the edge of the pedestal says:  _Cain's_. Bruce shakes his head a little as he passes the pedestal, but then he stops in front of a small cluster of statutes:

The two-faced Isinu of Sumerian mythology, the winged Papsukkal of the Akkadian pantheon, Turms, Hermes and Mercury, standing side by side, Agni holding fire in one of his hands, Hermod riding Sleipnir, and Zaqar of Mesopotamia.

Each one has their hands outstretched and, resting across and held up by them, is a scythe.

Bruce opens the twisted auction book, the pages tearing as he turns them. 'I didn't see anything on these statues in the book, Alfred,' he mutters, his lip curling as he watches Steve Trevor pass his hand over another exhibit. 'This might be what Shugel arranged.' Glancing to his left, Bruce reaches out and picks up the scythe, and his eyes turn white.

_A gravelly, rumbling voice, with strange hums layered within it, says, 'It grows darker throughout the universe, mortal...and there shall be no dawn.'_

_From a distance, it looks like a massive sandstorm is approaching. The air is thick with dust and the sky is a myriad of oranges. Dark specks drift across the sky, with some swooping down suddenly, disappearing, and then reappearing slightly larger than before._

_'Resistance is foolish. All it does is delay the inevitable. All it does is make things hurt._

_'Most of you are beneath my notice.'_

_In the orange light, the figure standing on a mound looks like a devil-horned man in a trench coat - Batman. He lowers his arms as the sandy wind eases. He reaches his left hand into a compartment in his belt and pulls out a batarang. He passes it over to his right hand and places the batarang in another compartment on the belt._

_'Convoy is two clicks away,' says a voice in his ear._

_'I see it,' growls Batman. 'Does your scan confirm?'_

_'Package is onboard.'_

The scene shifts and:

_The convoy pulls up and several men stand by the back of a truck. They're wearing 'helmets' – ones where hands cover their mouths, eyes, and ears. They're caked in dirt and their uniforms are torn. The back of the truck opens and a man wearing goggles looks down on Batman and grins, gesturing at the metallic-looking box behind him, and then bowing theatrically._

_A screeching sound pierces the air and the man in the truck jumps down, brandishing his gun._

_There is a boom and dozens of armed men swarm into the area, all wearing similar helmets to the others, but with much cleaner uniforms. They don't say anything as they rush at the convoy, guns raised._

_Batman spins low on the ground, swinging his left arm and tossing several bat-shuriken. A red-haired woman barrels through the armed men, rolls on the ground and comes to a crouch next to him. She nods and begins firing taser bolts at the helmets._

_There are more screeching sounds and massive winged creatures swoop in and pick up the downed men and carry them away. Some land and advance on fighters._

The scene shifts again, and:

_'The shields aren't going to hold!' shouts a voice. It's distorted, part man and part machine-sounding. Batman is standing over the metallic box, shifting from side to side as the truck heaves and lurches._

_'How long?' roars Batman._

_'I-' the voice is cut off and Batman turns to see what has happened._

_'No!' he shouts out, helpless and enraged. A thick blade juts out of the metal-encased chest of a cyborg. Sparks and dark fluid fritz and spurt and the left eye blinks rapidly. A head cowled in yellow and red looks over the shoulder of the cyborg and says, 'May the Source preserve and guide you.' It reaches out a green-gloved hand and releases bands of metal and light, and the Batman snaps his trench coat at a lever and is catapulted out of the truck. Miniature jets fire from his boots and carry him up into the sky. Dozens of parademons are in the air around him. The tendrils stream out of the truck and wrap around him, smothering the jets._

There is another scene shift, and:

_Batman snaps awake in a dusty chamber, gasping. His arms are chained above his head and his gloves, gauntlets and boots are on the ground behind him. To his right, arms and legs contained within a metal frame which, in turn, is surrounded by a copper cage, is the cyborg. The hole in its chest is no longer fritzing but its artificial eye blinks and pulses slowly. To the Batman's left is the red-haired woman, chained and unconscious._

_He looks forward and snorts. Beyond the chamber is a corridor, lined with armed men wearing military-esque helmets. On their shoulders is the S-shield. They all stand straighter for a second and then, at the far end of the corridor, Superman descends, slamming into the ground, his cape wide as it falls back around him. He stands and, with gentle whirring sounds, the armed men kneel and lower their gazes._

_Superman walks forward, his mouth grim and the dark-lit corridor shadowing his face makes it look as if he's angry. He passes a glance over the red-haired woman and the cyborg and comes to a stop in front of Batman. They look at each other in silence and then Superman lowers his gaze a little._

_'I tried to help you, Bruce. I know you know that. I tried, but it's over now.'_

_Superman reaches out and takes off Batman's cowl, and Bruce glares at him._

_'This stood for something,' says Superman, and his eyes glow red for a couple of seconds. He looks at Bruce and continues, 'for all the fear you instilled over the years, you gave hope.'_

_Bruce growls and looks to his left and right._

_'The Bat is dead. Buried.'_

_Superman says something more but it is inaudible, masked by the strange voice as it says, reverberating through the vision: 'Resistance is foolish, but there is always resistance.'_

_He places his hand on Batman's chest and the voice says:_

_'Go and conquer the universe for me.'_

_Bruce screams._

* * *

Bruce snaps back to reality, gasping and perspiring, as Diana takes the scythe from him. His hands shake as he tries to reach out to her to stop her from leaving.

'Two minutes and twenty-four seconds,' she says, wrapping the scythe in leather. 'Be careful of what you think you've seen, Mr Wayne. Although Titan of Time and Fate, Kronos enjoyed his games, hiding truth with lies to see if we could still make Justice prevail.'

'Master Bruce!' shouts Alfred through the earpiece. 'What's going on?'

Groggily, Bruce shakes his head and whispers, 'What happened?'

'You touched an exhibit-'

'Where's the woman? Diana?'

'She's left the exhibit hall and is heading to the valet area. There's a car waiting-'

Sidestepping some of the attendees, Bruce dashes towards an exit and says, 'Put Kent on hold. Diana Prince is now the priority.'

Flashes of light as he runs out of the building force him to cover his eyes for a second, and a swarm of paparazzi surrounds him. Beyond them he sees Diana look back at him before she gets into a sports car and drives away. As he watches, the unmasking scene flashes in his mind again. He turns away from the paparazzi and signals to the valet, closing his eyes to the images of the fight in the desert and the winged creatures in the sky. He hands some money to the valet as his car approaches and he hears the voice again:

_'Go and conquer the universe for me.'_

* * *

_Channel 52 News_

Seventeen men, twenty-two women, and twelve children are seriously ill in hospital after a fire broke out in a tenement in the east end of Mexico City. Police say the blaze broke out across several floors and have voiced arson as a potential cause.

[Translated from Spanish] 'The buildings in this area are old and run down, but a fire like this is not normal. Even if it had been in something like a temporary lab, it would not have spread like this. We have a number of witnesses who have described the fire as starting from several locations.

'We are currently aware of three deaths, but there would have been many, many more if Superman had not arrived and helped. There are many here, residents and rescuers, who are alive right now because of him.'

* * *

_The Batcave_

'He  _challenged_  me, Alfred,' says Bruce, shrugging off his jacket as he hurries down the platform to the computer array where Alfred is waiting with a tray of food.

'Who did, sir?'

'Superman.'

'Su-? I've been watching the proceedings and Superman wasn't there. In fact, he-'

'He was there. I know who he is now. He made sure of it.'

Alfred sets down the tray and gestures at the large chair. 'Master Bruce, please.'

Bruce tosses his jacket aside and rolls up his sleeves. 'Winton was originally based in Kansas City before he came to my father with his ideas and formulas.'

'He was, yes, but how does-'

On screen are pages from Professor Winton's journals and notes, and on one of the pages is a drawing of the Kryptonian Command Key. He keys in a few instructions and runs an audio playback, adjusting it to be octave lower and a deep baritone:

_'The Batman spent years as an urban myth. Despite being revealed to be true five years ago, and then disappearing, why the brazen appearances now? Why shed the mystique?'_

On the screen it says:  _96% match_.

'And Kent's a Kansas farm boy.'

'My word.'

'I have to take him down,' says Bruce, keying in more commands.

'Excuse me, sir?'

'Look at what he's been doing – ignoring laws, borders-'

'One could quite easily give you examples of times you have done the same.'

'This isn't about breaking and entering or hacking or-'

'Terrorism?'

'This is the  _world_ , Alfred.'

Concern furrows Alfred's brow as he asks, 'What happened?'

'What do you mean?' Bruce doesn't look at him, instead, he keys in further searches and opens up more sub-screens.

'At the auction. Twice you-'

'I saw something. Realised something. A truth.'

'"Truth", sir?'

'That I have to do more. I should never have stopped. What's out there never changed.'

'Oh, yes it has, sir. Everything's changed. Men fall from the sky, the gods hurl thunderbolts, innocents die.' He looks at the screens, frowning at the requests Bruce has been inputting. 'That's how it starts. The fever, the rage, the feeling of powerlessness.'

Bruce squeezes his eyes shut and hunches forward as images flash through his mind. Of Robin, bloodied and broken, of Dick's gravestone, of Superman and his fiery eyes, and of Bruce screaming.

'That turns good men...cruel.'

'It's not cruelty, it's necessary.' Bruce pulls up schematics of a range armoured suits, and others of various weapons – hypersonic canons, missiles, tasers, and so on.

'You're going to go to war.'

The image of Bruce screaming flashes in his mind again and he turns to Alfred and snaps: ' _He's_  the one that brought the war to  _us_. Count the dead. Thousands of people. What's next? Millions? He has the power to wipe out the  _entire_  human race, and if we believe there is even a  _one_  percent chance that he is our enemy we have to take it as an absolute certainty...and we have to destroy him.'

Alfred punches a button and the display changes to images and feeds of Superman doing various feats and rescuing people. Fires and floods, collapsed mines and capsizing ships, motor accidents and aircraft.

' _He_  is  _not_  your enemy.'

Breathing out heavily, Bruce squeezes his temples with his thumb and index finger. 'You're right. You're right. He's not. Today. Yet.' His head snaps up and his lip curls as he says: 'Twenty years in Gotham, Alfred, and we've seen what promises are worth. How many good guys are left? How many stayed that way? He says he's here to help, but I know...I know otherwise…and I'm going to kill him.'

Alfred mouths 'why' but, instead, asks, 'How?'

'I'll find a way.' Bruce crosses his arms and looks over the schematics. 'There's always a way.'

* * *

_Daily Planet offices_

Perry White stalks down the row of cubicles, clutching some papers tightly in his hand. 'Kent,' he says, his voice firm and a little louder than it would be for a regular conversation, 'where's the pre-exhibition piece?'

Clark pulls out a thin folder and turns to Perry, smiling, 'The Shugel-'

Perry snatches the folder from Clark's hands and says, louder still: 'The football! Gotham versus Metropolis!'

Clark's smile vanishes and he adjusts his glasses. 'I'm working on an angle.'

'I told you the angel – Victor Stone, teenage tactical genius and how he turned his school team into the most sought-after players  _ever_.'

'I know, Perry, I'm just trying to plug some gaps in his-'

'With what?' snaps Perry, holding out the sheaf of papers and stabbing at the heading: "Bat-Threat in Gotham".

'Batman's changed, Perry, and-'

'Drop the story. I hired you for the way you seem to have insight into people, Clark, not for something like this. Nobody cares about Clark Kent taking on the Batman.' He holds out his hand as Clark stands. 'Drop it. Now.'

* * *

_S.T.A.R. Labs, Metropolis_

'I'm still quite giddy over you being here, Bruce,' says Lex, grinning, 'but I'm glad you finally decided to take a look at all the work we've been doing together.'

'I figured it was about time, Lex.'

'You know, childish as it may seem, but I feel like Willy Wonka right now. I think you're going to be quite impressed.' He nods at Mercy and she keys in a series of codes and opens a large door. 'Now, we're going to go on a ride first, our key labs are just outside Metropolis-'

'But S.T.A.R-'

'Is full of the boring stuff. The fun,' Lex gestures theatrically, 'is this way.'

Mercy leads the two billionaires to a well-lit tunnel and an underground bullet train. The doors open silently and the three of them step and sit down. There is a hum and rapid bursts of light followed by a low whining sound and the doors open again.

'Welcome to Thebes,' says Mercy.

Stepping out of the train, Bruce looks up and around a massive rectangular underground chamber, around a hundred feet high. There are five floors on either side and the chamber extends ahead of them for over a kilometre. At intervals on each floor, there are walkways connecting the two sides.

'Thebes?'

'The city where weapons are forged and heroes are born.' Lex grins and rubs his palms together, gleefully.

'Lex, what the hell is this?'

'This is the other side of S.T.A.R. but before it. Government sanctioned but off the books. You need to see this if we're truly going to work together.'

'Explain.'

Lex adjusts his jacket and steps away a little with his hands behind his back. 'Mercy?'

Mercy smiles and begins to walk further into the chamber, gesturing Bruce to follow. 'Advancements come in different forms but not all of them are accepted by society. Fisher developed a pen that could write upside down, under water, over grease, and all he wanted to do create a pen that would write under any circumstance. Others, however, wanted an ink that would write itself, under any circumstance.'

'You're not making sense, Ms Graves,' says Bruce, gritting his teeth.

'You're deliberately being obtuse, aren't you?' Lex sighs. 'Come, come. I've wanted to share this with you for years.'

The part of the floor they are standing on rises up and becomes a hovering platform. It rises up further and hovers by the balcony to the second floor.

'This world isn't the way it was when our fathers were around. In their time the gods were human. Now…well, now, it's like it was before.'

'Before?'

'Titans and Olympians, avatars and anthropomorphism, beings from realms beyond the sky.'

'Superman?'

'Throughout, we've strived to be better, and strived to achieve more. We made wings and soared, only to be cast back down to earth. We built a tower and reached the heavens, only to have it all shattered beneath us as we became divided. We kept moving forward, Bruce, despite all the times we fell.

'We've fought nature and nature fought back, and the fight keeps going.  _Here_  we've been pushing things for decades-'

'"Decades"?'

'We're not the first to work to lift humankind, Bruce. From even before the Ancient Egyptians, there have been people – basically, Bruce, what I'm saying is that we are, each of us, standing on the shoulders of giants.'

'Okay, I can agree with you on that.'

'But now, despite everything we've achieved,' he gestures at the labs the platform allows them to look into, 'tackling heart disease, infant deaths, processes to clean water, spinal injuries, genetic defects – I hate that description, I do, it's not their fault. All the things we've achieved and are achieving-'

'So this  _is_  about Superman.'

'That's a name given to him to humanize him, but you and I both know he can never be human. Some have called him a force of nature, but he's beyond that. Sure, we sometimes describe it as 'Mother Nature' and highlight its gentleness, but he isn't that. He's something else.'

'At least he's on our side, right?' Bruce watches a weapons test as the platform moves alongside the corridor

'And what if he changes his mind, Bruce? What happens when he decides he knows what's best for us? What happens when he looks at us and thinks that the fact that so many of us strive to make this world better isn't enough? How many times have people in power –  _humans_  – broken their word?'

'So you don't believe him?'

'We would be fools to accept him solely on his word.'

'Well, he has been saving people, Lex.'

'And ignoring others. He has the technology to change the world, and that's not hyperbole.'

'So what do you propose?'

'Here's the thing, I'm not interested in bringing him down.'

'You're not?'

'No.'

'Then?'

'I want to bring us  _up_.'

'How?'

'You've seen some of what we have here. That's just a sliver of what we can do, but the world's not ready for it yet.'

'It wasn't ready for Superman, either.'

' _He_  has been foisted on us. All of us –  _everyone_  – deserves a chance at greatness, Bruce, none of us are born to it. That's a lie people tell to stop others from achieving. Belief is key. Belief that we can be better. It's the belief that a boy in a tenement slum in Mexico has of being a doctor that drives him to make it a reality and grab on to the slimmest of chances. All of that is threatened now, because of him. Now, people look at him and the desire for greatness is…it's not there anymore. Because we can't be him. We can't win.'

'So it's over?'

'No. No, no, no, no, no. Now we expose him for what he is, and ground him in reality, so that we can believe in ourselves again.'

The platform comes to a stop and Lex steps off, followed by Bruce and then Mercy.

'I'm quirky, Bruce, I know that, but I believe in humanity, and it's that belief that has pushed me further since the Metropolis Incident.' A door slides open and he walks through, arms wide, and a thin green beam of light moves up and down him. He steps through another set of sliding doors and waits for Bruce and Mercy to follow.

The lab is darker than the others they had passed on the platform and there is a strange green glow emitting in various parts of it.

'Now, granted, WayneTech is the world leader in alloys, but you have to admit, some of what we have here is quite impressive. Lightweight and super-durable. Even though you've sworn off defence contracts, I think you'll appreciate the  _protective_  elements of what we're working on here in this particular lab. Not missiles or guns, but armour – personal and vehicular – the soldiers and rescue workers, police, firemen…

'We have limits. Time and time again that truth hits us in the face. We have limits, but we're gifted with the ability to overcome them or work around them.' There's a hiss and a large horizontal cylinder rotates and opens. Inside is a suit of dark-grey armour lined with green and purple. It's not bulky – it could actually be considered 'form fitting'.

Bruce reaches out and touches the chest plate and is surprised by how it feels. 'It feels like...baby skin.'

'It's a finish bonded into the molecular structure of the alloy,' says Mercy. 'Rather than it being cold and hard, it was felt that something like this would provide some initial comfort to someone being rescued.

'So it's bulletproof.'

'And grenade-proof, and bomb proof, fireproof and disease-proof.'

'"Disease"?'

'We're trying to cover all the bases, Mr Wayne.'

'And this is all in response to him?'

'No, this is all that we had been trying to do for years. Your teams have been helping over at S.T.A.R.-'

'Helping how?'

'Our alloys aren't as stable as yours. They're close, but…something's missing. Anyway, for him,' says Lex, grimly, 'it's different.' He gestures at a metal arm and at a number of screens displaying computer-generated simulations showing the arm compressing on impact with an object. 'We can punch through concrete, but it's like tearing paper for him. For all the force we can generate, once he braces himself he's like an immovable object. We can't reach him. Not yet.'

'So there's-'

'There's Metal-X,' says Mercy, quickly. Bruce looks at her quizzically and she points to a lab on the other side of the chamber. He leans forward a little, squinting, and sees an outline of a man-sized skeleton.

'It isn't enough,' says Lex from behind some shelving. He pops his head round and signals Bruce to follow. Curious, Bruce walks over to the shelves, glancing over his shoulder to see Mercy leave the lab. 'Here…the piece de resistance that will allow us to resist.'

Lex steps aside to reveal a large meteorite with pieces of green crystal jutting out of it.

'It's a rock,' says Bruce, deadpan.

Lex brushes his hands over it. 'It's salvation.'

'Lex, it's a rock. From outer space, sure, but still just a rock.'

Lex tuts and then, as he pulls back his sleeve and presses his forearm, he says:

_'From what highth fall'n ,so much the stronger prov'd_

_He with his Thunder: and till then who knew_

_The force of those dire Arms? Yet not for those,_

_Not what the Potent Victor in his rage_

_Can else inflict…'_

He looks up at the screens he has activated and Bruce looks, too. Displayed are satellite images of Superman flying across the waters near the remains of the World Engine, dipping suddenly, and then correcting himself.

_'And to the fierce contention brought along_

_Innumberable force of Spirits arm'd_

_That durst dislike his reign, and me preferring,_

_His utmost power with adverse power oppos'd_

_In dubious Battel on the Plains of Heav'n,_

_And shook his throne. What thought the field be lost?_

_All is not lostl the unconquerable Will,_

_And study of revenge, immortal hate._

_And courage never to submit or yield.'_

'You believe this can-'

'It can, it will, and it does.  _Since Fate by the strength of Gods_

_And this Empyreal substance cannot fail,_

_Since through experience of this great event_.'

Lex points at the screens again and, this time, they are displaying images and data from the World Engine. Some of the images are similar to what Bruce had been looking at in the cave and all show Superman lose control of his flight for a few seconds.

_'In Arms not worse, in foresight much advanc't,_

_We may with more successful hope resolve_

_To wage by force or guile eternal Warr_

_Irreconcileable, to our grand Foe,_

_Who now triumphs, and in th' excess of joy_

_Sole reigning holds the Tyranny of Heav'n'_

Lex steps over to Bruce's left side and puts his arm on his right shoulder. 'He never goes there, Bruce,' he whispers. 'To the island. He hovers,  _ever so close_ , but he doesn't go there.' He turns him around towards the shelves again. 'This is why.'

'How did you get hold of it?'

'It's best you don't know. Plausible deniability and things like that. But you know that men like us can get hold of anything.'

'So you're going to throw a rock at him?'

'Look around us, Bruce. There's always a way.'

* * *

_ML News 1_

G Gordon Godfrey grins at the cameras as he paces the floor of the studio.

'We've said this from the beginning, ever since he first appeared, that this being has no regard for the laws of our world.'

The screens behind him play footage of a rocket launch in Russia.

'Investigations are still underway, but there are many of those involved in the project who have cited a sort of 'extra-normal' sabotage as the cause for this:'

As the rocket's engines ignite, strange energy tendrils snake their way along the frame and up towards the capsule near the nose cone.

'Now, as my viewers and listeners know, a number of countries have made it quite clear that "Superman" is not welcome in their airspace. Those viewers also know that there have been  _dozens_  of occasions where he has wilfully ignored the declarations of those countries, and that it is only a matter of time before one of them retaliates.'

The body of the rocket begins to glow and the fins explode and the rocket lurches and begins to collapse in the middle. Small explosions tear away at the capsule and then a massive explosion engulfs the rocket.

As the balls of fire collapse on themselves, quickly exhausting their fuel, a large object moves through the flames – the capsule, intact, and carried through the air by Superman. He descends and slowly lowers it gently to the ground.

'Now some people, perhaps even many people, would consider this an impressive rescue. It is impressive – an impressive disregard for the sovereignty of a nation. Russia made it quite clear that Superman was not welcome and that he should not set foot on its land, but did he listen? Did he accept their sovereignty?

'What he did resulted in this:

'"America is flaunting its superpower and using its puppet to enforce its will on the world. We have to consider this an act of war."

'Lucky for us, though, the Russians have decided to hold off, but we're all now left wondering: when will enough be enough?'

Images of the rescued astronauts are replaced with a recording of a Russian general:

"'We concede that his actions saved lives, but that does not mean we accept him. We reiterate: Superman is not welcome in Russia without prior approval of the President. This will only be granted on a case by case basis."

'With Superman stepping on the toes of a dozen other countries, well...' Godfrey shrugs and walks away and, on the screens, the fire at the rocket launch continues to burn.

* * *

_Gotham – Wayne Foundry_

Four trucks bearing the Wayne Foundry logo burst through the gates of the foundry and, a little way behind them, one of the outer buildings explodes. At the junction, the trucks head in three directions, with two turning right. There is a roar and the Batmobile tears through the flames and follows the trucks.

In the courtyard of the foundry lie seventeen men. Most of them are unconscious, and those who aren't are writhing on the floor, clutching their arms or legs.

In the cockpit, Batman presses a series of buttons, activating various weapons and systems in the car, and says, 'Alfred, track the two headed to the docks and take control of the signals.' He turns left and accelerates. Within seconds a truck is in sight.

A grappling hook fires out of the front of the Batmobile, punching through the lower chassis of the truck ahead. It expands open and Batman presses a button to winch in the cable and there is a scream of metal and some small explosions as the rear axle tears from its moorings and the truck lurches and flips onto its side, skidding to a stop.

Three men scramble out as the car rushes by, and there is a series soft 'pft' sounds and three football-sized balls of goo are fired from the rear of the Batmobile, smothering the men and pinning them to the truck.

The car turns right, then right again, and then a sharp left. The traffic lights turn green all along the stretch of road and Batman grips the wheel and puts his foot down. A mile ahead is the second truck and he presses another series of buttons and various plates around the turbine shift and the Batmobile moves faster than before, only silent.

Two of the raiders open the back of the truck and hurl several barrels of gloop at the Batmobile just as a couple of discs fired from the turret on the front of the car strike the rear wheel arches. Swerving to avoid the barrels, Batman clips a couple of parked cars but the road is too narrow and a barrel slams onto the front of the car, smothering it with gloop, and the engine stops.

'Extract yourself,' says Batman, leaping out of the cockpit and tossing a ball at the truck. He jumps over a car and then quickly scales a wall. The HUD in his cowl shows a street map and the location of the two remaining trucks. Back on the street, three small explosions disable the truck by releasing an expanding foam around the undercarriage and over the front of the truck.

The Batmobile shudders and electricity sparks around it. The engine revs and the tyres spin, sending smoke into the air. The tyres stop spinning and the car shudders again. There is a soft hum as the front lights shine brighter and brighter and the panels around the lights begin to glow a dark orange. The lights go off and the orange panels slowly shift away from the body of the car, burning away the gunk.

Running along the rooftops, Batman vaults and flips and glides as he tracks the two remaining trucks. Running out of rooftop he fires a miniature missile from his gauntlet, tagging the lead truck, and the explosion forces the rear truck to spin and stall. One of the raiders opens a panel on the roof and begins firing wildly as the driver restarts the engine and gets the truck going again.

Batman somersaults and lands on the roof of the rear truck, slamming his clawed glove into it and bracing himself as the driver takes the turn at speed. His cape billows behind him, the lead-weighted tips hitting the thief's head and knocking him out. His gun falls from the roof and the unconscious body moves from side to side before falling back through the opening.

As the truck swerves, Batman pulls out a grapple gun and fires it at a flag post several stories up. Bullets puncture the roof of the truck, but he's no longer there. The truck barrels into several parked cars and then, on a turn, the rear right-side slams into a lamppost.

Back at the foundry, the onsite fire crew try to clear the debris in order to reach the burning buildings. As a fire engine draws close one of the formerly unconscious raiders forces himself to his knees and shoulders a grenade launcher. He aims at the rescue workers and fires.

The grenade explodes in mid-air.

The raider pulls round a mini-gun and fires at the crew, emptying the clip.

No one is hurt.

A casing falls from the sky, followed by another, then another, and another. The raider looks up and Superman descends, his left hand clenched and his right open and dropping bullet casings one by one.

'That's enough of that,' says Superman, hovering just above the raider. Superman looks over the other men and then turns, in mid-air, and says, loudly, his voice reverberating throughout the compound, 'Security, if you could attend to these men I'll sort out the fire.'

He rises into the air again, casting his gaze over buildings. He frowns at one of the buildings and descends again, near the foundry's chief of security. 'Excuse me, that building over there, the third on the left, are you sure it's clear?'

'The lead house? Yes, sir, that was vacant tonight. Um...sir, someone hacked into the sprinkler network, so...'

'Thank you,' says Superman, and he smiles reassuringly. He rises up again and drifts towards the flaming buildings, arms wide, and claps his hands together, hard. The shockwave disrupts the flames and shifts the sprinklers active.

'I think you have things under control here. If you'll excuse me.' There is a gust of wind and Superman disappears from sight.

Swerving into the dockyards, the headlights of the Batmobile illuminate the Man of Steel as he stands there waiting. Batman slams his foot on the brake and turns the wheel but his reaction is too late and the car hits Superman's left leg. The Batmobile spins out of control and slams into a concrete wall. The front left side is a mess, with metal plating protruding from the flame-retardant tyres.

Slowly, Superman walks over to the car, checking over it with his vision before stepping onto the hood and pulling off the canopy doors. Batman looks up at him and releases his seatbelt as Superman tosses the doors aside.

'You'll be okay,' says Superman as Batman stands up. 'The car needs some work, though.'

'You were in the way.'

'You were being reckless.'

'I had things under control,' Batman snarls.

Superman shakes his head, but it's barely noticeable. 'You're not the man you once were. There's no need for all this.'

'All  _this_  is because of you and what you let happen.'

Surprised and a little confused at the words, Superman arches a brow and then, relaxing a little, he says, 'Fine. I'll accept the responsibility, but you need to back off and let me deal with it.'

'And let guys like-'

'They're being taken care of. I'll drop them off at the-'

'And what happens the next time?

'There's no need for the broken bones and the branding. There's no need for fear.'

'Because they're afraid of  _you_ ,' growls Batman, poking Superman in the chest.

'They're…I'm not here to make anyone afraid.'

'Ask them. Ask them if they're afraid. Ask them if they look to the sky and worry about a god's gaze sending fire down on them.'

'You know I would never do that.'

'You're a law unto yourself. You've shown that time and time again.'

'What was it you said about hypocrisy before?'

Batman steps forward, his face barely an inch away from Superman's. 'You're not one of us.'

'You…expected me to just stand by and let people die?'

Batman stares at him.

'What happened that day,' says Superman, softly, 'you know I would change everything if I could.'

Both men are silent as they stare at each for a moment. Flames crackle and a gust of wind plays with their capes. Superman cocks his head slightly and then turns to look over his shoulder, frowning at what he sees.

'Next time they shine your light in the sky,' he says, turning his attention back to Batman, 'don't go to it. The Bat is dead. Buried.'

Images from the vision flash in Bruce's mind and he remembers Superman's words and Superman's hands on his chest. He remembers his scream. He clenches his fists and grits his teeth as he pushes the images away.

Superman sighs when he notices the clenched fist, and stands a little straighter before he starts to turn away.

'Tell me,' says Batman, and Superman pauses and looks at him, hoping. 'Do you bleed?'

Superman looks away, saddened, and shakes his head a little before he leaps into the sky. Batman watches him rise and then, as the sonic boom fades, he says:

'You will.'


	6. Chapter 6

_Washington D.C._

The reasonably-sized hotel room has an unobstructed view of the Washington Memorial. The door to the balcony is slightly open and, as the sounds of the city below drift in, a breeze plays with several small piles of bulldog-clipped papers on the desk. Two small satchels, along with an open laptop, sit on the bed and a carry-on suitcase is by the dresser. Lois steps away from the coffee machine and takes in the aroma of the freshly brewed cup. A rustle of fabric catches her attention and she looks towards the balcony door, smiles, and makes her way over to it.

'I tried to reach out to him,' says Superman, as Lois slides the door open further, his hands resting on the balcony railing. His head turns slightly as he passes his gaze over the city's skyline.

Frowning a little, Lois leans against the doorframe and takes a sip from her drink, before she asks, 'To whom?'

Superman doesn't look at her when he answers: 'The Batman.'

Surprised and curious, Lois pushes herself off the doorframe as Superman turns to face her, 'Clark, why would-'

'He's a good man, Lois.' He leans back against the railing. 'He wishes to be. He only...'

'What? Lacks a light to show him the way?'

'Maybe.'

Lois shakes her head and smiles. Bemused and pursing his lips to stop his own smile, Clark flicks his head upwards a little, questioning, as Lois steps forward.

'Isn't that what this is becoming?' she asks, touching the sigil of the House of El on Superman's chest. 'A beacon? Hope? Just be yourself, Clark, and if Batman is meant to, maybe when he stops with the burning and branding-'

'That's just it,' he says, placing his hand over hers and shaking his head a little. 'I don't think it's him.'

Lois frowns, confused, 'But you said-'

'I know.' He lets go of her hand and paces the small balcony area. 'Gotham forensics found metal ions in the burn injuries that match the alloy his batarangs are made of, others that match parts of his car. I've seen them with my own eyes. Compared them. There are some differences but they seemed superficial. They're alloys that don't seem to exist on record, or at least don't seem to have been used anywhere other than by him, and just raise more questions.

'I've gone over the police interviews of the victims and the eye-witnesses, and spoken to some of them myself, and I don't think it's him.'

'A few weeks ago you said he seemed angry. You showed me your case files and said there was some sort of escalation compared to how he used to be. That-'

'He knows who I am,' says Clark, gently.

Lois gasps. 'Oh my God.' Her eyes dart around, nervously, and she looks towards the door and into the safety of the room.

Clark smiles and steps over to her, saying: 'It's okay, Lo. I  _wanted_  him to know.'

Lois' eyes flit from side to side, examining Clark's face, trying to understand, and then they widen with realisation: 'Wait, you  _know_  who Batman is?'

Clark nods.

'How?'

He shrugs and smiles. 'I've known since I was nineteen.'

She looks impressed and mouths 'nineteen?' and Clark smiles a little wider and nods again.

'Have you told your Mom? About him knowing?'

'Not yet.' Lois sets her cup down on the balcony table and rests her arms on the chair, leaning against it, her fingers thrumming against its edge. Gently, Superman prises her away from the chair and turns her towards him, bending his knees a little as he tries to get her to look at him. 'It was the right thing to do, Lois, and I've wanted him to know for years.'

'But why, Clark? Why would you do something like that?'

He looks down and away, ashamed. 'To…to apologise.'

Although surprised by his answer, Lois immediately asks: 'Apologise? For?'

Clark doesn't say anything for a few seconds but glances around the area again before he gestures towards the door and they walk into the hotel room.

Closing the door and drawing the curtains, Clark says, his voice deep and sombre, 'It was my fault that they died.'

'Who?' There's a hint of frustration in her voice, brought about by the almost-non-answers Clark is giving her, and Lois tugs on her blouse and breathes out slowly.

Walking to the desk, he says, 'When Zod tried to break free he crashed into the Wayne Financial building-'

' _None_  of that was your fault.'

Shaking his head, his shoulders sagging, he continues, 'It was. I should have taken him onto the ship. I left him behind because-'

'You wanted to check if the others were ready. That the rest of the plan was in place. We talked about this.'

'I still could have…no, I still  _should_  have taken him with me. Instead, he broke free and fell into the building, killing-'

'Clark…'

'Batman's family.'

'What?' Shocked, Lois leans forward a little, her brow furrowed and her head turned slightly, as if trying to hear something again.

'His son.' Clark looks at her, the sadness apparent on his face.

'Batman has kids?!'

'Had. His son, his daughter-in-law, and their unborn child.'

'Clark, that wasn't your fault.'

'It  _is_ , Lo. It was, and I can never put it right.'

They're quiet for a moment and then Lois says, 'If you think he blames you for what happened-'

'I do.'

'Then that doesn't explain why you would let him find out who you are-'

'When he came out of retirement I kind of…I don't know…hoped, I guess. With the refugees from Metropolis, Gotham needed someone like him more than it had done since the night Commissioner Gordon was murdered. When they started shining his signal again I couldn't help but smile. I knew he wouldn't have made it known that he was back if he didn't believe he was ready, and the idea of working with him, it just sounds right: Superman and Batman.'

'And, what? Are you two supposed to be the World's Finest or something?'

'I think we can be.'

Shaking her head Lois paces in front of the bed and Clark watches her and waits. Clark detaches his cape and drapes it over the desk chair. He looks bigger without it, almost warrior-like. She looks at him, frustrated, and Clark shrugs.

'Like I said, I've known who he is for a long time. I know what he's been through and I know he's been out there doing whatever he could to make the world a safer place.'

'Clark, he-'

'He saved my life. Years ago. He saved me and he doesn't even know it.'

'How?' Clark speed-changes into some casual clothes and sits on the edge of the bed, gesturing for Lois to sit next to him.

'After my father died, I was lost. People in Smallville…my being different was something a few of them knew and accepted and never talked about. Pete, Lana, Kenny, some of the older folk-'

'Because of the bus, I know, it was one of the threads that finally lead me to you.'

'They couldn't…sometimes  _I_  couldn't…'

'Couldn't what, Clark?'

'Understand how I couldn't make the children let go.'

She takes his hands in hers. 'You were worried about hurting them.'

'I know, but I could have tried more, perhaps.'

'But how does Batman come into this?'

Clark takes a breath, stands up and, as he paces the room, says: 'After the funeral, I got more and more restless. Ma and I talked. A lot. She helped me with my guilt, but she understood that I couldn't be there. Couldn't stay there. She didn't want me to go, but she knew I had to. I didn't want to leave her alone, but I knew she wouldn't be.'

'Small town and all that.'

Clark smiles. 'And all that.

'I wasn't as strong or as fast then, and I think…no, I  _know_  I got arrogant. I started travelling – mainly in the Midwest but away from home. I helped where I could. In secret. I had heard about Batman and Robin, the myths and stories and hyperbole, but I didn't know what to think of them. A part of me…I started to think that maybe, if he was what some said he was, then maybe I wouldn't be so alone and so different. That maybe he was like me. I made my way to Gotham and saw him in action. I figured out who he really was and what drove him, and I tried to introduce myself to him a couple of times.' He chuckles and shakes his head. 'Even kept a batarang as a souvenir. But I knew Pa had been right: the world wasn't ready.'

'Okay, but-'

'I ended up in Central City for a little while, took on some work at a steelworks. There was an explosion…a blast furnace erupted, sending down molten metal. I got the workers out of the way but…I was disoriented. I thought I heard someone in trouble so I headed back in as they were diverting the flow, and the metal poured onto me.' Clark smiles a little and shakes his head as he shrugs off the memory.

'A week later, I was in Keystone.'

'Central City I knew, but  _Keystone_?'

'I wasn't  _that_  bad at keeping a cover, Lois, and not everyone is you.'

She smiles and bites her lip. 'Okay, so, Keystone.'

'I'd just applied for a job with a manufacturer of construction vehicles and went to call Ma from a payphone, when everything began to shake around me. The glass shattered, the phone exploded, my teeth began chattering and my nose started bleeding.

'The noise…I could barely stand, and then something pummelled me. Next thing I knew, I was in some kind of glass box, bathed in red light. All around me were other…cages and platforms. Most of them were empty, there were only four that had someone or something in them, including mine. Others were tucked away in other parts of the facility.

'It was a place called Project Cadmus.'

'"Cadmus"? I've never heard of it.'

'Apparently, it was named after the first Greek hero, but it was basically an internationally sanctioned prison and science lab. My powers were weaker somehow but I could see the others who were held there…and the cadavers.'

'Oh, Clark.'

'There were no scientists or, well, there didn't seem to be anyone actually manning the place. Everything was automated or watched over by different kinds of robots. I was in some kind of bodysuit. Black and blue. None of us really knew how long we had been in there. Some of us tried to escape. All of us failed.

'It's where I met Arthur and actually  _did_  start to believe that I wasn't the only one like me, after all.'

'Arthur?'

'You'll meet him someday, I'm sure.'

'Hmm, it's starting to sound like you've got some kind of boys' club that you haven't told me about.'

Clark shrugs. 'Never know, it could happen.'

'Then, one day – Arthur and I figured it was a couple of weeks after I had arrived – the grid went out and the red light stopped and my strength, my hearing, my sight, all of it, surged in me a little, returning, and they were there: Batman and Robin.'

'How?'

'He's a detective, Lois. It's what he does.'

'Go on.'

'Doors opened, and there was some kind of silent alarm. The robots morphed and sparked and tried herding us. Arthur and I lashed out and we almost turned it into a competition. Armed men arrived with strange weapons. No bullets. I knew then that whatever Cadmus was it wanted us alive, I just didn't know what for.

'Have you ever seen Batman and Robin in action?'

'Only in that video.'

'The death of Robin.'

'Batman's son,' says Lois, uncertainly. Questioning.

Clark doesn't say anything for a second or so and then says, 'His second. Different to the first. Angrier.'

'And in Cadmus?'

'In Cadmus, it was the first Robin.' He looks up at the ceiling and to the sky beyond and says, 'There are so many things I wanted to say to him but never could.'

'Such as?'

'How much I admired his grace. I'm serious, Lois,' he says, smiling at Lois' smile. 'The way he moved, it was like a dance and he was everywhere.

'Batman, for all his mystery and distraction, was far more direct. Watching them take on the security forces made their differences so apparent.

'Somehow they hacked into some sort of PA system embedded in the robots. There was an announcement on loop – Robin telling us to make our way to an exit where they had a plane waiting.'

'The Batplane's real, too?'

'Oh, he's had a few over the years.

'I ignored the instructions. A part of me was still somewhere in the facility-'

'A part of you?'

'The Command Key. I could hear it, somehow. When I found it I was… stunned.

'The images were crude, like… like old VHS recordings where the tracking was off. Scrolling and fading. I'm not sure what they were showing exactly – history and stories, facts and figures – but I saw Robin standing in the middle of the room, reaching for the Command Key. I dashed forward and took it before he could. The images and sounds vanished and he looked at me, dazed, and, I realised years later that it was because of the tears in my suit… that, with what he had seen, that was why he said what he did.'

'What did he say?'

Clark smiles at the memory of Robin looking at him and whispering, with a smile: 'Nightwing'.

* * *

_In the Rockies_

Deep in the facility, a massive new data storage room is being finalised and linked to a closed network. The screens in the new room, like the ones in the others at this level, display news broadcasts from across the world. One screen, however, flits between news from Argentina and schematics of a metallic human skeleton. The small robots roaming the corridors pause as they receive new instructions. In a lab a few dozen feet above, Lex looks over various holo-screens showing the blond-haired man becoming a dark-haired one, and his skeleton of a body becoming layered with muscle. He's looking over months of footage sped up to a matter of minutes.

'Lex?' says a slightly robotic voice.

'Yes, OB-AP?'

'Analysis of the Kryptonian decedent is complete.'

'Fantastic. What can you tell me?'

'This Kryptonian is from before the Great Collapse. The genetic markers and musculature make him to be a native-born rather than from the colonies.'

'So he's like Superman?'

'Not quite.'

'Why?'

'Comparing against samples recovered from the Grand Canyon, he lacks elements found in designates Kal-El and Zod.'

'What do they entail?'

'Unknown at present.'

'And?'

'Genetic integrity has been compromised by-'

'That was to be expected. And the nutrient bath?'

'Has been successful. Major cellular regeneration was promoted and actioned and, as anticipated-'

'Timeline?'

'Seven weeks until irreversible degradation.'

'And the external restructuring?'

'Completed as requested.'

'Excellent, excellent. Which leads us to the inevitable: termination?'

'Unknown. His Kryptonian physiology will continue to attempt to heal but the process will lead to mutations.'

'Speculation?'

'Unable to speculate. This is knowledge I have never been exposed to. Never assimilated.'

'We learn something new every day.'

'We do, Lex. Thanks to you.'

'The implant?'

'Is active and synced to you.'

Lex touches his wrist and three small lights forming an upside-down triangle blink on his forehead. The door to the chamber opens and Lex steps in and walks over to the large tube containing the body. The yellow-green liquid is now thick and cloudy. He swipes his hand in the air and there is a hiss and the body lowers slightly as the liquid drains away. Thin cables wrap around his arms and legs and its now-dark hair clings to his forehead. The glass wall of the tube slides down and the cables move forward and bring the body out and stop just before Lex. He reaches out and lifts the head, turning it from side to side.

'Very good work,' he says.

'Thank you, Lex.'

The scar on the body's face looks raw and Lex frowns a little and then shakes his head a little. He steps back and, smiling, raises his hands and closes his eyes. The cables unwind and retract and the body hovers in mid-air.

His eyes open and 'Superman' smiles.

* * *

A wall of screens in the Batcave are full of images and footage of Diana. Some are from the Shugel Foundation, other are from traffic and ATM cameras. On one screen is a front page article from the  _Gateway City Herald_ : 'World's End Missing Pilot Returns'. On smaller screens are classified material on Steve Trevor with lots of redacted pages

'And how is the investigation into Ms Prince coming along?' Alfred asks as he places a small tray of food next to Bruce. He picks up a plate of sandwiches and offers it to him. Bruce presses a couple of buttons and then takes a sandwich.

'So far, it's only creating questions. The backdoors Barbara created are still in place, but so much has changed these past five years.'

'To be expected, though, surely?'

'Doesn't make it any less frustrating, though,' he growls.

'I miss her, too.'

'I know.' Bruce gets up and Alfred follows him as he walks over to another console. 'Now, the alloys…'

Alfred swipes a screen and a holo-dossier opens, displaying handwritten notes, video files and other data. 'One of the first alloys Professor Winton proposed to your father was one that would both absorb impact and, in doing so, enable electricity to be generated. I remember your mother asking if it would help hospitals and schools in war zones. I remember the hope they both had.'

'But it never happened because..?'

Alfred 'pulls' at a folder and swipes in the air. 'According to the archived minutes, the board said it was too expensive to produce and plain unsellable, other than to government-backed militaries.'

'And our military?'

'Wasn't interested.'

'Why?'

Alfred swipes the air again and opens some video files. The footage of impact tests shows small walls, jeeps and planes survive a range of explosions and shells.

'Although it absorbed impact from all manner of things, the alloy was fragile when used as armour for vehicles.'

The footage then shows parts of the walls deformed.

'The plating construction was an issue?'

'Quite?'

'How many hits?'

'It seems seven Hi-Ex squash heads was the limit.'

Bruce looks over at another wall of screens, this one showing footage and readings from the Battle of Smallville. He frowns at the impact figures from Superman's punches. 'And then?'

'Then it would dent and crack and fall apart.' He swipes again and shows a simulation.

'Okay, so we have impact absorbers, energy convertors-'

'Blades.'

'Go on.'

* * *

_Channel 52 – Sports News_

'After months of delays, the second exhibition match between Gotham and Metropolis has finally been confirmed to take place in Metropolis Stadium in three weeks. Also confirmed to play is Victor Stone.'

* * *

_ARGUS facility – outskirts of Washington D.C._

Diana looks out the tinted windows and over at the cluster of aircraft in the hanger below. She watches the engineers conduct their maintenance checks and her mind wanders to stables back on Themyscira and the long hours she had spent in helping clean them. The wall behind her is a bank of screens, and the one to her right has various consoles. The long table in the middle of the room is littered with laptops and what look to be various speakers.

'The higher-ups took a lot of convincing before they would let me give this to you,' says Steve as he walks into the room. He holds up the scythe, wrapped in plastic.

' _Back_  to me, considering it was me who retrieved it,' says Diana, turning to him and holding out her hand, 'and that I gave it to you for your people to analyse in the first place.' She removes the plastic and holds the blade up to the light. She squints and then flicks it with her finger, generating a ringing sound and making the windows rattle.'

Steve shakes his head and rubs his ears. 'I know, that's what I said-'

'But they think it a ruse of some sorts.'

'They don't trust easily-'

'Hmm.. perhaps if they weren't so wont to betray, they would find it easier to trust.'

'We're not on an island of women where everyone knows everyone, Diana.'

'Everyone has their secrets, Steve, but that's not something that should come in the way of trust.'

'Do you trust  _me_ , though?'

'I do.'

Surprised at her quick answer it takes a few seconds for Steve to realise she has actually given one. 'Good. And I trust you. Sometimes that's all that matters.'

Diana smiles and turns her attention back to the scythe. 'Sometimes.' She recites the words of the Oracle and Steve quickly writes them on a board:

_Darkness is coming, and with it Light_  
The Scythe cuts through and all comes apart  
The Alphas will rise as the Omega descends but together or all will fall  
The False God will show his colours and the sun will shine  
Men of Metal thirst  
A Great Eye will open and the Sea-King will call  
The Hand. The Great Hand. Crushing all.

'The Oracle's prophecies, her vision, can never be recorded. Her words can be, but what she shows those in attendance-'

'Well, if you maybe had a camcorder handy…'

'The technology from this world, Man's World, doesn't work on Thymescira.'

'Don't remind me. I'm just glad none of my friends saw you carrying the plane out so I could start the engines.'

'I didn't think you were so insecure.'

'I'm not!'

'We had considered…correcting your engines, but Io and Phillipus believed-'

'They were right.' Diana places the scythe on the table and looks at Steve. 'They were right,' he says again and then gestures at the words on the board.

'You said this was Kronos' scythe, some mythic Titan, but, I mean, it's  _small_. Weren't the Titans huge? The guy swallowed his kids, didn't he?  _Whole_?'

'They could be whatever they wanted to be, and, yes, he did. A long time ago. But Kronos and the others like him… Steve, there's a reason why Shugel made sure the pieces were arranged as they were. There were items from dozens of pantheons covering millennia, and with all those gods of time focused on  _this_ , this  _has_  to be what the Oracle was referring to.'

'Yeah, but Alphas and False Gods and a big hand?'

'You only know of the words, not what was seen. Maybe…' She holds up the Scythe in her right hand and wraps the lasso around it, binding them together. 'Show me what is to come.' The lasso shines a bright gold but the Scythe stays dull.

'Nothing,' she whispers. 'And you won't show me what you showed him. What's so special about him?'

'What did you say?'

'The Superman wears a cape and many in Man's World see him as some kind of god. The Batman thrives in the shadows, and  _you_  told me about the rumours of the man from the sea. With so many-'

'That one is just conjecture, based on what ARGUS was able to piece together after Project Cadmus was compromised.'

'Compromised?'

'Project Cadmus was something unknown until-'

''Compromised' would imply it was sanctioned.'

'Initially, yes. Back during the Cold War. A lot of things were sanctioned back then. A lot of things were attempted, for the safety of the world.'

'A lot of things were attempted a hundred years ago, Steve, and I put a stop to them.'

'This wasn't like that, Diana. We were in the right.'

'What did the Project entail?'

'We can talk about that later-'

'Steve.'

Steve grits his teeth and looks towards the door. Diana steps forward and Steve relents: 'It was a… facility where the government placed certain people with abilities.'

'Holding people captive and experimenting on them?'

'That was a different time. Things have changed now.'

'Of course they have, otherwise I wouldn't be here with you.'

'Exactly.'

'I would be in a cage somewhere.'

'Diana-'

'Where do your people 'conjecture' the man from the sea to be?'

'It…there were rumours after the Metropolis Incident,' he swipes a hand over one of the speakers on the table and large holographic globe hovers over the table. He points and the highlighted points across the Indian Ocean and down towards South Africa. 'Scattered sightings here and here and here. Rescues and huge sea creatures holding warships and cruisers together.'

'And recently?'

'I don't know.'

'Fine. What else happened in Cadmus?'

'Why so much interest in it? It's been shut down for years.'

'The name. It can't be a coincidence.'

'I think there's someone else you need to meet with. Someone who's been asking similar questions.'

'Whom?'

'Senator Finch.'


	7. Chapter 7

The winds whistle loudly and the lights of the city are far, far below. A hand stretches out and covers the city, hiding it from sight, and then it clenches into a fist.

There is a boom and the night sky is empty.

Eyes closed, his hair damp and clinging to his forehead, Lex turns his head to his right, smiles, and then, with his eyes still closed, he tilts his head down. A shadow passes over his face and the upside-down triangle of lights flashes.

'Lex,' asks OB-AP, its voice wavering in pitch like a pubescent male's, 'are you pleased?'

Lex's smile widens and he opens his eyes and brushes his hair back. 'Very. This… it  _exceeds_  my expectations.'

'That is good.'

Lex touches his forehead and says, 'The Interactive Interface you've helped us to develop…' his voice drifts as he loses himself in his thoughts.

'It has numerous limitations, Lex. Although it allows you to control the Kryptonian-designate such control is rudimentary and limited.'

'But I can fly and see-'

'Yet your  _reactions_  are human. Your senses are human. What you see and hear is what you see and hear  _as_  a human.'

Pacing, frustrated, Lex asks, 'Its brain is still healing, isn't it?'

'It is, and the Interface will allow you to access more of the Kryptonian-designate's functions and, in time, memories.'

'The memories are key,' growls Lex through grit teeth. He walks over to the chamber and, slumped in front of him, 'shackled' and asleep, his head bowed, is 'Superman'. The bodysuit is similar in colour to Superman's only of a plainer, rather than armoured-looking, fabric. The dark hair is slicked back and the figure looks almost resigned to its position.

'Memories are knowledge,' says OB-AP, somewhat softly. Lex nods and reaches out to the un-named Kryptonian, his hand hovering just above his head.

'Why did you come here?' whispers Lex.

'You know why I'm here, Lex,' says OB-AP.

Lex smiles and shakes his head. 'Not you, my friend. This one. Eighteen thousand years and it's only  _now_  that his people have started to reveal themselves.'

'We'll have that answer soon. Have patience.'

'But you're certain that we still have time?'

'There is time. Although neither of us was aware of any Kryptonian presence, the timeline remains as it was.'

Lex exhales deeply and smiles. 'That's reassuring. With everything going on out there, and with what you told me of Them, I-'

'One of Them, at least, is here.'

Alarmed at OB-AP's words, Lex doesn't notice the un-named Kryptonian's head snap up from its bowed position. He hurries over to a console and brings up various holo-displays. 'Who? When?' Behind him, the un-named Kryptonian's head slowly lowers again.

'I'm not yet sure. The recent uploads you have provided… the unrest across the world that seems so prevalent… the data would indicate that The Persuasive One is here. I know you are not yet ready to disable this 'Faraday Cage'-'

'In due time,' says Lex, a little dismissively. 'You know how voracious your data assimilation is and we have to be certain before we start the next stages.'

'Of course.'

Lex pushes out with his hands and more than a dozen small screens hover in front of him, each one displaying someone speaking and, among them, are G Gordon Godfrey and Pastor Papp.

'Run an assessment on the current prognosis while I look at these. We'll need to act soon.'

'Very well.'

* * *

_GBS News_

'"Months after The Batman's apparent return, and a massive drop in the city's crime rate, rumours are spreading that he has left Gotham once again.

"There have been no  _confirmed_ sightings for over a week. Now, this may be because of an easing up on the earlier prolific activity but there is speculation that, perhaps, the Batman has concluded that he is no longer up to the task.

"Here's what some Gothamites have to say on the matter:

"'Batman's  _old_ , yo. Twenty years of this [bleep] is a long time and people ain't like what they used to be. We ain't as scared as they useda be.

"'I heard Superman done him for the branding [bleep]. Ain't no man got a right to brand someone. We ain't animals.'

"'Odds are, the freak's lying in some ditch somewhere, dead.'

"'Look, he did what he had to do. Gotham was crazy, with the refugees, the trafficking, all that stuff. He came in and cleaned a lot of things up and now the police can carry on. He's not here to hold our hand, he just came to clear a path for us to walk on.'

"'They shine his light in the sky but there's no need anymore. We don't have any killer clowns running around or anything. More than before, we know enough now to look out for each other. I'm not saying we didn't need him when he came back, Lord knows that we did, but he was basically a shepherd and his work is done.'

"'You know why he's gone? Due. Process. He knows that the [bleep] he pulled all dem years back don't fly no more. Kick a guy's teeth out and [bleep] gonna sue. Simple as. And all that bulletproof [bleep], breds out dere got stuff that can cut through him.'

"'If he didn't stop now he would have had to stop soon. Look, five years ago we found out that he was just a guy. 'Kay, sure, some are saying there were at least a dozen guys or something, but everyone has their limits. Officers retire. Heck, CEOs retire.'

'"Night after night, the Bat-signal lights up part of Gotham's sky, but there's nothing for the Batman to answer, and that's a good thing."'

* * *

_LexCorp Labs, Metropolis_

Lex hurries up to the podium as those gathered clap. Behind the podium, covering most of the stage's wall, is a massive screen. On the far right of the stage is something massive draped in purple cloth hemmed with green. Standing at the podium, Lex nods at the attendees, smiles, and adjusts one of the microphones.

'Ladies and Gentlemen, we are in a new age… and we have to catch up. Some of the words I am about to share with you have been spoken before, by someone much better than I can ever claim to be, but they are no less valid now as they were all those years ago when he first said them.

'We are in an age of both knowledge and ignorance. We have been for a long time, it's true, but it's all the more apparent now. The greater our knowledge increases the greater our ignorance unfolds.

'No man can fully grasp how far and how fast we have come, and I won't ask you to condense man's recorded history but I will ask you to look at the last couple of decades. I'll ask you to look at how information has been compressed and packaged and shared; how whole libraries can fit in the palm of our hand.

'It's been said that all great and honourable actions are accompanied with great difficulties, and both must be enterprised and overcome with answerable courage. Here, at LexCorp, and, by extension, the various firms and corporations that make up S.T.A.R. Labs, we are stepping forward to tackle those difficulties and  _be_  courageous.

'We set sail on this new sea because there is new knowledge to be gained, and new rights to be won, and they must be won and used for the progress of all people. The numerous technologies and sciences that have been developed over the years – nuclear, space, industrial and so on –

'We have felt the ground shake and the air shattered, not by  _our_  technology or weapons but by those of others beyond us… and by… and by single beings.

'Within these last two years the world has seen tens of thousands of people displaced, islands appear where there once were none, sea-life wiped out… and thousands of people killed within a matter of hours.

'We were powerless, and it was not because of something we had failed to do or even because of our own actions. It was not because we…

'We were not responsible, but we have a  _duty_  to do whatever we can to stop something like that from happening again. We have a responsibility to look out for ourselves, for humankind, and to do so… and to do so without relying on…

'I know many of you here hold Superman in high regard and, truthfully, I am grateful for what he has done for us all in such a short space of time, but we have to stand on our own two feet.  _We_  have to progress.  _We_  have to keep moving forward. What I am saying is… what I am saying is that I am not  _against_  Superman, none of us here are, but we are… desirous of urging and leading humankind to the next stages through our own abilities and achievements.

'There is no strife, no prejudice, no national conflict because of someone like Superman. Yet. The hazards that would result are hostile to us all. Going forward with… metahumans deserves the best of all mankind, and its opportunity for peaceful cooperation may never come again.

'Our efforts are in their infancy, I'm not going to deny that, but these efforts have to be continued and nurtured and encouraged.

'I noticed some of you sit a little straighter when I said a certain word, and that word is why you're all here today. No, not 'Superman'. Metahuman.

'Some have taken to calling this emerging era 'the dawn of the superhuman' and, with it, a sense of inevitably being left behind. That's not going to happen. Decades ago we reached for the moon and we achieved it. We reached out to explore and we have achieved and learned so much. We are not going to stop now.

'The dawn of the superhuman will be led by us. The dawn of the superhuman  _is_  us. To that end:'

Lex steps to the side and gestures at the large screen behind him. It's segmented into various smaller screens, each displaying someone doing something physically astonishing: swimming, running, leaping, lifting. Some are athletes, others are 'regular' people,  _all_  are doing things beyond even an athletic 'norm'.

'For centuries, across the globe and across civilizations, we've tried to find ways to enhance our own innate strengths and limit our weaknesses. Genetic modification… genetic modification is not something we're ready to do yet, but it is inevitable. I'm not talking about designer babies or anything so crude as that but, rather, ways of taking the skills and abilities… the innate skills and abilities of a person and enhancing them to something more. Intelligence, stamina, strength, and so on.

'So, really, more… genetic  _enhancement_.

'Those days are not here. Yet.

'Someday.

'For now, we still have to rely on external technology:'

The purple cloth falls away to reveal display cabinet around seven feet in height and, inside, is the bodysuit Lex showed to Bruce, suspended and rotating. The displays on the screen now show test subjects in variations of the suit doing similar feats as those displayed in the previous videos.

'Some of our collaborators are against designing and developing weaponry, and I understand that, I do. What we have here, however, is an aid for rescuers in hazardous environments, police, firemen – and women – and, yes, soldiers, but I assure you that is not our aim. I see some of the disapproving looks, and I  _do_  understand them, but the world has changed.'

He steps away from the podium and walks over to the display cabinet. He pats the glass and looks at the gathered investors, reporters, and potentially interested parties.

'A bio-suit enhancing the wearer's strength and durability. There are  _some_  speed enhancements but these continue to be limited to the wearer's 'conscious reaction time', so while, as you can see, the wearer can run at almost 70 miles an hour, they cannot, yet, catch a bullet.

'Ladies and Gentlemen, the Lexor-One.'

* * *

_A.R.G.U.S. containment facility_

Amanda Waller steps through a body scanner and over towards a retinal scanner. Behind her stand Diana, Steve, and three armed guards. The guards move over to a large vertical bar and ready themselves to pull on it.

'You've made your reluctance very clear, Your Highness,' she says as she inserts her arm into another scanning device, 'but you know that you don't need your lasso to tell you that I mean it when I say that this facility is one of the most secure in the world.'

'It certainly looks like that, Director Waller,' says Diana as she gestures for the guards to move away from the bar. There's a beep from the scanner and Diana places one hand on the bar and tugs, opening a massive metal door three feet thick and twenty feet high.

Beyond the door is a massive research floor, segmented into various areas representing different parts of the world.

'Man's World has a lot of secrets, doesn't it?'

Waller shakes her head and walks through the doorway. 'I'm sure your Themyscira has its fair share of them, too. Secrets keep people safe,' she takes hold of a man by his arm and pulls him over to Diana and Steve, 'there are things people just don't need to know.'

'Truth is easier.'

'Not always, Ms Prince. Not always. Anyway,' she gestures at the man, 'this is David Clinton, one of our researchers and someone with quite the interest in Time.'

David smiles and says, 'Anytime you want access to the Scythe just let me know. Anytime.'

'And we will, of course, share our findings with you,' says Waller as she steps back through the door to leave. 'Trust us, Your Highness, we're all in this together.'

* * *

_Gotham PD - Central_

The Bat-emblem in the sky flickers and then disappears. On the roof of the building, Harvey takes in a long drag of his stodgy cigar before putting it out on the side of the large spotlight directed upwards. He exhales slowly and then looks at a shadowy corner and shakes his head.

* * *

_ML News 1_

G. Gordon Godfrey sits behind a large wooden desk and, behind him, is the brightly-lit sky of Washington, D.C.. As the camera slowly zooms into him he brushes his hands over the top of the desk, spreading his arms wide, and then brings his hands together again, clasping them and leaning forward a little.

'A couple of years ago I was basically a nobody. I'm not shy about that and I've made a secret of it. We all start somewhere, but I wish my beginning hadn't been because of the deaths of thousands of citizens of the world, and I wish my… platform wasn't because of a being who considers himself to be above us.

'I wish it was hyperbole on my part, I really do, but the facts speak for themselves: the  _alien_  has no regard for our sovereignty. There's a document that people across the world and across  _nations_  have, that comes in different colours but allows the same thing, and he doesn't have one.

'A passport.

'You might think it funny, but it's actually terrifying. He's set himself up here, in America, and seems to have made Metropolis his favourite haunting ground – he's got to keep an eye on everything he's torn down, right? – but the  _thing_  is global.

'Fires in Mexico, floods in Pakistan, earthquake in Nepal. He pops up everywhere before anyone else can. Oh, sure, I know you're  _thinking_  that that's a good thing, that he's out there 'saving lives', but you should wonder. You really should.

'The other day I had people calling in telling me – telling  _us_  – that it was the 'End of Days', that the Omega was coming and the Alpha would end. I'm not a religious man, far from it, but there have been moments ever since his arrival when I wondered: what if they're right?

'Across mythologies and religions the gods cast out the devils and fallen ones and send them here, to Earth, and they sometimes ravage us. Maybe that's him – a ravager.

'Regardless, the fact remains: the alien has no respect for authority and we have to be wary of this. Even if  _he_  doesn't do anything, with the very vocal protestations from the governments of places like China and Russia, chances are that they will do something about it… and hold  _us_  to account.

'So I say this, right here and now: Superman… stand down. If your help is needed then we, the people, will ask.'

* * *

_A.R.G.U.S. research and storage facility_

David Clinton looks over his notes as he walks towards a secure area. Distracted, he lifts his glasses and leans towards the retina scan. The door beeps and, pushing it open, he snaps his fingers and writes, while saying aloud, 'They say time knows no master – but I'm going to change all that.'

Lights flicker on and there's a soft hum in the small room. The walls are lined with storage boxes and looks much like a bank's safety deposit room. He walks over to one of the boxes, keys in a code, and then presses his thumb and little finger on a scanner. The box clicks open and he pulls out a small drawer, smiling as he looks inside.

His smile vanishes.

The box is empty.

David Clinton swears.

* * *

_The office Lex Luthor, LexCorp Headquarters, Metropolis_

Lex sits slightly slouched in his chair, his head rests against his right hand - his thumb against his jaw, three fingers slightly curled just below his nose, and his index finger taps against his temple. On the holo-screen in front of him is an empty display cabinet. He waves his left hand and the footage rewinds. The bio-suit is inside the cabinet, rotating in place, and the screen turns black. It flickers and the bio-suit is gone. Lex waves his hand again and replays the footage one more time before tutting and getting up.

'All he had to do was ask,' he mutters, 'I thought I made that clear.' He walks over to the window and looks out over the city.

There's a knock on the door and Mercy enters with Senator Finch and Diana.

'Ah, Senator Finch and Ms Prince,' he says cheerily. 'This is an interesting surprise.  _Why_  would Gerard Shugel's curator want to meet with me? And accompanied by yourself, no less.'

Senator Finch holds up a file and says, 'We've been going through the auction and found a few interesting… curiosities.'

'Oh?'

'A large number of items in the collection were acquired by various companies and other holdings, each with a tentative link to you.'

'Tentative?'

'We haven't found anything definitive, yet, but it's only a matter of time.'

'So this is a courtesy call?'

'You could call it that.'

'And Ms Prince?'

'As you said, I was curator.'

Lex shakes his head. 'No, why are you  _really_  here? I've made no secret of Mr Shugel being my mentor.' He chuckles and says, 'It's actually been held against me from time to time.'

'I'm here for the truth, Mr Luthor.'

'Lex, please. And what 'truth' is it that you're looking for?'

'Why you were buying up all those artefacts-'

'Through various companies, etcetera, etcetera? Simple – there were limits placed on what one person or corporation could acquire or even donate, and, well, I wanted to be able give as much as I could to the Foundation.'

'A noble intention, I'm sure.'

'It is. Truly. The Foundation can do a lot of good.  _I_  can do a lot of good, but both it and I are shackled in various ways. It was, to be frank, a way around some of those limitations.'

'What do you know about the Scythe of Kronos?'

Lex shrugs. 'Mythical artefact. What else is there to know?'

'It was in the auction.'

'You mean something that was  _supposedly_  the Scythe was in the auction. I remember the listing, but it wasn't of any interest to me.'

'It wasn't?'

'No, Ms Prince.'

Diana turns away slightly, frustrated, and looks out the window.

'They're not the answers you're looking for, are they?'

'No.'

'Then maybe your questions are wrong.'

'Perhaps.' Her hand hovers by her hip and she looks over at Senator Finch.

Lex notices, smiles and points at the far wall of his office, turning on a large screen. 'So the rumours  _are_  true. Colonel Trevor's friend is something else.' Displayed are images and footage of Diana, Steve, Amanda and others, as well as extracts from transcripts.

'The truth is always best, is it not?'

Diana flicks her hand and the room is bathed in a golden glow. In her hand is a Golden Lasso.

Mercy steps in front of Lex, shielding him.

'It's okay, Mercy, let's let the Islander do what she has to.'

'This Lasso will compel you to tell the truth.'

Lex spreads his arms wide. 'Truth will out.'

'Resisting the Lasso is not advised, Mr Luthor.'

'Of course, of course. Please.' He holds out his arm and waits for Diana to wrap one end of the Lasso around it. The Lasso glows brighter and Lex closes his eyes.

'What are you not telling us?'

Lex takes in a deep breath.

_In the lab, tucked away in the Rockies, the prone 'Superman''s eyes open._

Lex opens his eyes.

'There is a Code, tucked away in every code since just after the birth of the internet. It's there, not as a conspiracy, but to warn and to help. It doesn't matter how new a programme is, how stripped down a code is, how 'fresh' it is, the Code is there.

'I had always been fascinated by what might be out there – the wonders and the terrors, and then I found something. It was just a pattern at first – totally invisible until it wasn't. It was a symbol. It was Hope.

'People think the Question was answered when the aliens revealed themselves. No, the Answer came before. Many times. But, more importantly, in 1977, before I was even born, when the Preserver reached out, and no one realised.

'But I did. Years later when I tried to find answers. When I was old enough. I realised and I searched and I found It and I learned. Genesis and Apokolips. The Collector of Worlds. Life and Anti-Life.'

Diana tugs on the Lasso, releasing Lex from its hold, but he continues talking:

'And the Red Capes.

'And you, Amazon, you don't understand. Mankind needs  _me_. The Red Capes are coming. The Red Capes are coming.'

* * *

_LexCorp's Rockies facility_

Evacuation alarms blare throughout the facility and, in one section, each floor is littered with torn metals, concrete and rock, all around a hole the size of a small couch that seems to have been punched through.

Doctor Sydney Happersen stabs away at dozens of keys on a console and, around him, scientists, technicians, and security personnel rush around trying to figure what has happened and what is happening. Robots of all sorts of sizes barrel into people and fall through the large hole, while other robots suddenly stop and hum. Tablets and holo-screens display lines of code and error messages and then flashes of broadcasts and schematics and voice prints.

* * *

_A hotel in Metropolis_

Diana opens the door to her suite and slides the card into the slot on the wall. The lights turn on and she closes the door behind her. A frown creases her brow when she notices that the lights around the window have not come on.

'I appreciate that you feel that the shadows are your home, but I warn you: I am only your enemy if you treat me as such.'

Batman steps forward, away from the shadows, and Diana stands a little taller.

'You have quite the story, Ms Prince,' he growls.

She smiles, 'Says the man pretending to be a demon-bat.' She drapes her coat over the back of the desk chair and reaches for the remote control. She turns on the television and changes the channel to the exhibition football match between Gotham and Metropolis, and puts the remote back on the desk. The light from the screen makes shadows dance over Batman's face and Diana plucks a couple of grapes from the fruit bowl on the table between them and leans against the desk and starts to eat one.

Batman's cape shifts a little and he raises his hand to show her a leather bundle. 'You took Kronos' Scythe-'

'How did-?'

'That doesn't matter. What  _matters_  is that A.R.G.U.S. had it. Why?'

Diana shrugs, 'For study.'

'You know how dangerous this is.'

'Potentially. For now, it is… inert.'

'"Inert"?'

'The Scythe has various… attributes. One is a gift of showing what  _may_  come, but the Scythe's owner,' Diana shrugs again, 'is known to like playing games and telling riddles.'

'So the future it shows-'

'Is layered. It's not meant for…' She suddenly stands upright and walks straight over to Batman. 'It worked for you, didn't it? What did you see?'

Batman ignores her question and lowers his arm, hiding the bundle under his cape. 'You met with Lex. Why?'

'Why does  _that_  matter? It's you and Bruce Wayne who have the answers I need.'

'Bruce Wayne?'

'He saw something, too, when he held the Scythe, but he's been a difficult man to get hold of.'

'Then I'll ask him.' He moves past her and over to the desk. 'Why did you go to see Lex with Senator Finch?'

'For answers, but he knew nothing about the Scythe. He spoke of a code hidden in computer code. Neither I nor Senator Finch understood what he was talking about.'

'I need to know  _exactly_ what he said. I need-'

The Batman falls silent and stares at the television screen.

* * *

Beams of fire tear through the sky and bombard the football stadium. Chunks of the pitch leap into the air and explode. The beams move along the length of the pitch and then turn into the stands, melting metal and plastic and setting wood on fire. Spectators rush onto the pitch while others try to push their way through the stands. There is a stampede and the screen goes blank.

* * *

Batman's fingers dance over the keys on the inside of his left gauntlet, instructing WayneTech drones as they whizz through the air over the stadium. On the television screen are four feeds from the four drones. In the Cave, Alfred hurriedly instructs the systems to process the incoming data as the drones scan the melted metal. When the results are displayed, he shakes his head with disbelief.

_Cross-check: match to the effects of 'heat vision'_

Batman taps the side of his cowl and says, 'It's started.'

'I don't believe it,' says Alfred over the comm-link. 'You said you saw, at Lexcorp-'

'Their weapons couldn't do this. Not like this.'

'That you know of.'

'Look at these readings!  _Everything_  matches what we know he can do. Everything matches what we've studied. What S.T.A.R. has studied.'

'I…I cannot believe it. I refuse to.'

_'What's wrong with you?'_ he roars, ignoring Diana as she turns away from the screen to look at him.

'It doesn't make any sense,' says Alfred, firmly. 'You  _know_  it doesn't.'

Images from the vision bombard Bruce's mind and he grabs onto the desk to support himself.

'It  _does_  make sense, Alfred. I've seen it. It's happening.'

Diana grabs Batman's shoulder and pulls him round to face her. 'I need to know what you saw. Now.'

'Let go,' he growls, moving to get past her, and she pushes him across the room and slams him into the wall, pinning him with her left hand.

Through grit teeth, she asks, ' _What_  did Kronos show you?'

Batman thrusts his arm up into Diana's in order to break her hold and grunts when she doesn't move.

'We don't have time,' she says, and presses him a little harder. 'Tell me.'

'The end of the world.'

* * *

_S.T.A.R._   _Labs, outskirts of Metropolis_

Superman lands gently but firmly and walks through the main door. Alarms begin blaring and units of armed security rush into the lobby and surround him. There are a series of hums as the security personnel raise their weapons and ready the. Superman stands and waits and then looks up to the balcony where a group of scientists and technicians have gathered.

'I'm here to prove that whatever happened at the stadium was not because of me.'

'Of course it was  _because_  of you,' shouts one of the scientists. 'You're here to prove you didn't  _do it_  but that doesn't mean it wasn't  _because_  of you.' He gestures for Superman to be allowed through and gasps when Superman appears beside him.

'We've studied the effects of your heat vision, Superman' says another of the scientists, and they all walk to a presentation room where several others are waiting for them. 'You know that and we made no secret of it.'

Superman shakes his head and says, 'Professor Hamilton conducted the tests when this group was first set up but you let him go-'

'He didn't fit the needs of S.T.A.R.,' says the first scientist, dismissively.

'We've sent out our drones and technicians are on site, but their first priority is recovery,' says a third.

'The emergency services wouldn't let me help when I arrived.'

'Can you blame them?' The screens in the room display news footage, drone footage, and streams of data being transmitted back to the facility. 'They saw fire come down from the sky. They saw people burn and turn to ash, and others fall and be crushed. We've only just started but every test, every type of analysis we've run on the stadium so far  _matches_  what we know. Everything.'

'I was on the other side of the world when it happened. I was just leaving Indonesia.'

'No, not quite,' says one of the technicians. She brings up satellite data and points at some of the figures and a series of maps. 'You disappeared for five minutes. Every satellite observing or transmitting across this region, across your projected flightpath, went blank, and it was in those five minutes that the attack happened.'

The first scientist turns to Superman and, crossing his arms, says, 'The only other time satellites were taken over in such a way-'

'Was when Zod revealed himself,' says Superman, finishing the thought.

'With Kryptonian technology. Technology  _you_  have.'

'That was the Black Zero, Doctor, not the other craft.'

'So you say.'

'You've never allowed us to examine it. You've never let us take a look.'

Superman's jaw clenches but then he says, slowly, 'It wasn't me.'

* * *

_Superman: Murderer_

The words are displayed behind Godfrey. There's no question mark on the sign. It's as if it is a statement of fact.

He looks sad as he sits in his chair – there's no desk, no barrier between him and the viewer, and he looks around himself, a little uncomfortable.

'Earlier this evening, fire rained down from the sky. An action many of us around the world, myself included, have had nightmares about for almost two years, happened. When beams of fire, when 'heat vision' tore through buildings in the Metropolis Incident, he said it wasn't him, and we had cause to doubt – he seemed to be stopping beings just like him from taking over our world, from killing us, so we believed him.

'When people were found dead in remote parts of Africa, we were assured by our soldiers that it wasn't him.

'When it was disclosed that the severed heads found in Mexico City had been separated from their respective bodies by  _burning_  we were, again, told that it wasn't him.'

'The accusations have been made before, but there were always excuses. Always convenience. Not anymore. Not even with S.T.A.R. Labs saying it's unclear.

'No excuses.

'I advise viewers not to allow their children to see this – it reveals the truth of the Kryptonian, yes, but it shows actions so heinous that we truly struggled with ever showing it to you.'

* * *

_LexCorp's Rockies facility_

Dr Happersen walks alongside Lex and Mercy as they make their way through the now abandoned facility.

'All of our data is intact, sir,' says Happersen, 'and we're still trying to determine what blocked our signals, but the AI you mentioned…'

'Faraday Cages are never absolute, Happersen.'

'Indeed, sir, but the missing robots are concern, surely?'

'They're a curiosity, but not a concern. Right now my main interest is the Kryptonian-designate.'

'It returned shortly after the incident and has remained in its chambers. I've looked over the readings and…  _something_  triggered it, somehow. Made it break its way out and hover over us for several minutes-'

'Before heading to the stadium.'

'The only communication we've found was…'

'Me. The headpiece.'

Happersen doesn't say anything but steps aside as they enter the room containing the Kryptonian.

Mercy looks up from the tablet she had been working on and says, 'The bio-suit hasn't been found yet, either,' and Lex nods knowingly.

* * *

_Gotham PD – Central Precinct_

_One week later_

The streets of Gotham have been empty ever since the beam of fire tore through the sky and laid waste to the stadium. Criminal activity has dropped significantly but police officers man the streets in large numbers, wary of a rumoured uprising.

Harvey Bullock closes his office door quietly and stares at the ceiling.

'Harvey,' growls Batman. He stands besides Harvey's desk and places several files on it.

'About time!' says Harvey, hurrying forward. 'What the hell's been going on? Gotham  _and_  Metropolis are on shut down. The President's banned Superman from American soil and everyone's just… just waiting for him to take over.'

'I need your help.'

' _My_ -'

'I need you to clear the island and I need that.' He points towards the ceiling.

'You've got a plan?' Harvey separates the files, glancing over the titles. 'To stop  _him_?'

'I do.'

'I'll get it done.'

'And Harvey, thank you.' He holds out his hand.

Harvey gapes, stunned by Batman's words and action, but he realises what they mean and takes Batman's hand in his. They're silent for a few seconds and then Batman nods at him, and Harvey swears under his breath as Batman steps through the door and out onto the main floor. Silence falls across the room and envelops him as the detectives and officers watch him walk among them.

* * *

_First Church of Superman_

'When I first heard… when I first saw… Brothers and Sisters, I must confess, I lost faith. I was confused. It didn't make sense. Brothers and Sisters, I fell to my knees and I wept.

'I'm sure almost all of us did.

'As I wept, I prayed, and as I prayed… as I prayed, I understood.

'There is always a cleansing. There is always a test.

'The test we had was one of humanity, and we failed. Repeatedly.

'Ever since his arrival… ever since he began to walk among us, he has shown us that we have to step forward… that we have to come forward… that we have to step up and help.

'The punishment is confusing and I weep for the lives lost but we  _have_ to open our eyes, my Brothers and Sisters. We have to see that our apathy was smothering us. We have to see that our faith  _compels_  us to help those around us, even when they want to tear us down or hurl stones or even shoot us.

'For two years we were apathetic while our Lord placed himself across the world, helping even those who shunned him. He didn't care about their hatred, and we weren't supposed to, either. But we failed.

'We failed and punishment was meted out.

'Brothers and Sisters, we must take heed of the warning and put ourselves forward. We must  _help_  those around us. Not in believing in Him and His goodness but in being  _human_  and holding each other upright.

'I know this is a confusing time for all of us. I know some of you have lost loved ones in The Fire, but I promise you that all is not lost.

'Hope lives.

'Kal-El lives.'

* * *

Thunder rumbles through the air as the police helicopter flies away from the rooftop. The buildings on the island are silent and dark but the street lights remain on. Several years ago, the island had been devastated by an earthquake. In recent months, in a bid to bring the refugees out of Robinson Park, efforts had been made to rebuild parts of the island and reconnect it to Gotham proper.

'I'm begging you to reconsider. That bio-suit has never been tested for something like this.'

'Lex was confident enough to reveal it, and the data holds.  _We_ tested it.'

'The data does  _not_  show how it would fare against… against a fist through your chest.'

Batman closes his eyes as he lowers the helmet over his head. The vision bombards his senses and he grits his teeth and waits for it to pass.

'That's what the armour  _we_  made is for. Besides, if you're right about him then that will never happen, will it?'

'I know I'm right. You'll see.'

Batman doesn't say anything as he remembers his last meeting with Superman. He remembers the Man of Steel's words before he flew away and left him with the wrecked Batmobile:  _"Next time they shine your light in the sky, don't go to it. The Bat is dead. Buried."_

He remembers the vision and the scorched earth.

He remembers the stadium and the screams recorded on footage that has never been broadcast.

He turns on the signal and looks upwards as his symbol lights up a part of the sky.

'Well,' he says, his arms wide as rain begins to fall, 'here I am.'


	8. Chapter 8

Then

_A.R.G.U.S Armory, somewhere in Maryland_

Diana Prince hurries through a corridor deep inside the vast underground complex. She isn't running but she certainly isn't walking casually as she passes through various doors and scanners and brushes by sentries and agents. Behind her, barely keeping pace, is Steve Trevor.

'Diana, this is the  _safest_  place for-'

'With respect, Steve,' says Diana sharply, as she leans forward into a scanner next to a heavy metal door, 'your people could not safeguard Kronos' Scythe, I am  _not_  leaving my weapons here.'

'We'll get it back-'

'And second,' she walks a little faster. 'Second,  _if_  Batman is right and that  _was_  Superman's attack, he is going to need my help to put an end to this.'

Steve dashes in front of her, barring her way. 'Then let  _us_  help you get ready. You're a tactician, you really think going out there-'

Sidestepping him speedily and gracefully, Diana enters an antechamber. The walls and floor are metallic rather than the concrete of most of the corridors, and there are a series of grooves in the floor. Near the middle of the room is a large table-like object covered with 'bumps'. Beyond the antechamber is something that looks like a massive underground arena. Aircraft of various sizes, although none larger than an SUV, can be seen performing manoeuvres and firing at things out of sight, and somewhere below.

She looks back at Steve and says, 'I've observed him since we arrived. He's breathtakingly strong and fast but he's clearly untrained.'

Diana presses her palm on a panel and red and blue lights scan it. A section of the metallic wall beside her slides open to reveal her armour and equipment and she pulls out a short sword and inspects it.

'You think you can match him?' asks Waller, gruffly and almost with a snarl, as she strides into the room. Diana ignores her and continues inspecting her equipment. Stepping forward, closer to Diana, Waller says, ' _Beat_  him?'

Placing an arrow back in a quiver, Diana turns to face her and says, 'Only one way to find out.'

Waller sighs and gestures at the strange table. It hums and lights up and begins displaying a suite of holo-screens. 'You've watched him, Princess. We've been  _studying_  him.'

A rocket launch goes wrong. Suppressant gas is sprayed on the craft by the automated safety systems, but the audio recording of the conversation between the astronauts and the command centre mentions locked doors and the air supply being disabled. Superman swoops in and tears the capsule from its moorings and connections to the body of the rocket and starts to fly away with it. The rest of the rocket ripples and explodes, engulfing everything. Superman flies through the flames and sets the capsule down. He opens the door and helps the would-be astronauts get out.

An accident on a bridge has over a three dozen cars in a pile up, crossing both directions. Cables have been wrapped around two truck containers, which are dangling over the channel below. Superman rises up alongside the bridge, holding a passenger coach above his head. He sets it down beside two truck cabs then helps firemen and EMTs with freeing people trapped in wrecked vehicles, and carries the dead to the side.

In a town that has been ravaged by an earthquake, the front of a building peels loose and falls towards a group of rescuers. Superman catches it, bracing it against his back, buying the people below enough time to get away, and then the wall crumbles around him and the air is filled with dust. Rubble begins to appear on the sides of the rescue site as Superman uses his speed to clear the area and get to the survivors below. He then calls down the rescue workers to help him bring the survivors up.

There are dozens of other images and recordings, including ones of him delivering food and supplies to refugee camps in different parts of the world, and footage of him shoring up a dam.

Then, expanding the screen, Waller shows Diana footage of the stadium attack, and the room is filled with the sound of screams.

'Something is not right,' says Diana, and she starts pulling at the holo-screens and re-ordering them.

'Excuse me?' snarls Waller.

'All of this, everything that he has done, he would not have attacked that stadium.'

'Are you not seeing what we're seeing?'

'I see someone saving lives time and time again. I see someone  _talking_  to people. Checking on them.'

' _I_  see someone buying people's confidence. Deceiving them.'

'Is that because that is what  _you_  do?'

' _No one_  is altruistic.'

'I am not saying he is. I  _am_  saying he tried to help. Over and over again.'

Waller stabs at the screen displaying recordings from the destroyed stadium and shouts at Diana, ' _Look_  at that screen! There's only  _one_  being that can do that.'

Exasperated, Diana shakes her head and steps back a little. 'You think he would spend  _hours_  helping to evacuate  _destitute_  people in Indonesia only to then murder thousands  _here_  minutes later?'

'He's an alien!' roars Waller.

Diana shakes her head again and reaches out to touch one of the other screens, replaying footage from the interrogation room Superman and Lois had been in two years ago. Although not seen, Professor Hamilton can be heard speaking:

_"…Sir, you… you can't expect us to not take precautions. You could be carrying some kind of alien pathogen."_

_"I've been here for thirty-three years, Doctor. I haven't infected anyone yet."_

'He's lived among you his  _whole_  life,' says Diana firmly, pushing her hand through the holo-screen and pausing the recording.

'Doesn't matter,' growls Waller. 'He's still not one of us.'

'Study him,' says Steve to Diana, gesturing at the control panel, 'you'll see.'

* * *

_Press conference held by the President of the United States_

'For two years he has helped not just us, here in the United States, but people across the world. He's calmed tsunamis and helped plug oil leaks. He's saved mountaineers and avalanche victims, helped find lost planes and given families closure.

'He has done many things, but we still don't know him.

'We, along with every other nation, have asked him to surrender himself. It doesn't matter where or to whom, only that he do so before we,  _collectively_ , have to escalate things.

'We have heard the people who have said that we're wrong. We  _know_  he was in Indonesia but we  _also_  know that he left the region's airspace just as the attack happened. And it  _was_  an attack, make no mistake about that.

'We know that he is fast but we do not know the extent of his speed. On one occasion, he travelled halfway around the world in less than ten minutes, and he did so to save  _many_  lives, yet that occasion only serves to  _add_  to our concerns.

'But there are other things we know:

'A beam of  _heat_  was sent from somewhere above us. Somewhere in orbit.

'There were  _no_  weaponised satellites in that region.

'That… death ray  _liquefied_ parts of Metropolis Stadium.

'Over a thousand people died because of what happened. Many have yet to be recovered and some may be saved, and we, and the dedicated rescue workers on site right now, are hopeful that we will find some alive.

'These are concrete facts but we need answers, and I, and the rest of the world, say this:

'Superman. Kal-El. Turn yourself in. Turn yourself in and help us get those answers.'

* * *

_G Gordon Godfrey Has This To Say – the newly set up webcast of the increasingly popular talk pundit_

There is no sign behind him this time, but he is, again, seated without a desk creating a barrier between him and the viewers.

' _Days_  have passed and the so-called 'Man of Steel' continues his reign of terror,  _in absentia_.

'He didn't disappear straight away, mind. Having  _scorched_  the Earth and murdered and terrorised he then descended to 'help'. He truly believed we would be blind to what he had done and just accept him.

'The  _height_  of narcissism. The height.'

He shakes his head and stands up, looking sombre.

'Men, women, and children were screaming, choking, dying and dead, and he descended as if a magnanimous god to ease our pain and suffering. Pain that  _he_  had caused.

'But we chased him away. We protected our own,' he punches his right hand into the palm of his left, 'and he fled.

'He fled and tried to 'help' elsewhere. He fled, believing the world had not seen what he had done, but the world had and the world rejected him. Again and again.'

He looks up and then thrusts his arms up and punches his hands into the air.

'We reject you!' he shouts. 'We. Reject. You!'

He lowers his arms and looks at the camera. His face is flushed and he brushes his hair back, adjusts his suit, and composes himself.

'I say again: days have passed and the so-called 'Man of Steel' continues his reign of terror.

'That's what it is, my friends: a reign of terror.

'How many of you have actually stepped out of your homes today? This week?

'I can see it my colleagues' brave eyes, all around me, none of them wanted to be here. None of them were sure they would even make it.

'This is not hyperbole. You, my friends, know that it is not.'

* * *

_Press conference held by the UN Secretary-General_

'Within months of him stopping the attempted invasion, I met and spoke with Superman on more than a dozen occasions. We coordinated the delivery and distribution of aid and supplies to those affected by the World Engine's… alterations.

'He has done much and there are many, across the world, who would consider him a friend.  _As_  a friend, I'm asking him, Kal-El, to help us find out what happened and turn himself in.

'For the sake of everyone.

'You've saved the world before. Save it again.'

* * *

_Batcave_

Thick armour plating is lowered onto a metal skeletal frame. The Batplane turns on a pedestal and cables attach themselves to it and raise it up above a platform. At a workbench next to a computer array, Alfred and Bruce tinker with various objects. Small handheld units beep diagnostic readings.

Luke Fox's voice can be heard:

'The updated drones have been sent out and we're working with Stagg and the others in coordinating deep recon and retrieval. We've found two hundred and nineteen survivors so far but there are still over a thousand people unaccounted for. The scans are positive, it's just… with the risks of debris shifting, there's no way of moving any faster to get to those trapped across nineteen areas of the stadium.'

Bruce looks up for a few seconds and says, 'Get in any and every necessary specialist on our database. Palmer over at Ivy might have some ideas. Tap into Michael Holt if-'

'They've already offered to help,' interrupts Luke, 'and so have dozens of others.'

'Good. Good.' Bruce looks at Alfred and then says, in a slightly deeper voice, 'Luke, I'm going to do some things behind the scenes for now.'

There's a pause and then Luke says, '…understood. Good luck.'

Alfred checks something on a handheld device. He pauses for a couple of seconds, his fingers hovering over the small screen, and says, reluctantly, 'The caches of ammunition you diverted are in place and-'

Bruce straightens up and massages his neck. 'It's okay, Alfred. I know you're doing everything you can.'

'Sir?'

Bruce holds up a glowing green mineral, almost the size of his head. 'This rock… it's not like I can just do what David did.'

Alfred looks at Bruce and then over the equipment on the worktop. 'No,' he says with a sigh, 'but David used his unique skills to his advantage, much like you're doing, and you have much more than just a slingshot.'

Bruce puts the rock down. 'Do you believe in providence?'

'…Bruce…'

'There's a veritable  _god_  out there, right now. Unstoppable, as far as the world's concerned.' He shrugs. 'Maybe we could use nukes. Maybe.'

'And risk wiping out-'

'Exactly. But… look at all this.' He picks up the helmet from the worktop and holds it out. ' _Decades_  ago, before anyone knew about any of this, Professor Winton came to my father with calculations and formulae for these alloys… Energy absorbers, transformers, all sorts of things.' He points at a screen displaying the S-shield, 'His notebooks are  _littered_  with that symbol and so  _somehow_ , we have the means to stand up to a god. He came from the sky, but so did all this.'

'"Providence"?'

'Or the universe trying to put things right.'

'Because he shouldn't be here?'

'This isn't his world, Alfred.'

'And you have to take it back.'

Bruce doesn't say anything as he places the helmet back on the table. The two of them are silent for a few seconds and then, as Bruce moves around the table to check on another gadget, Alfred, tired, sits down and rubs his eyes, and Bruce speaks.

'He can move faster than I can see. My reactions, my intuition, even with that bio-suit… The Kryptonian woman took down thirteen soldiers in  _seconds_ , and she was  _toying_  with them. The armour we've built, the alloys we've used… they're not enough, not for a prolonged encounter. But something like this…' he holds up the rock again. 'That island out there likely has  _tonnes_  of this stuff and it only  _starts_  affecting him from a couple of miles away. An island we can't get to because he's likely watching and waiting. This… he doesn't know we have this. He doesn't know that we know what it can do.'

'And there's still no guarantee.'

'Lex's studies,  _my_  observations-'

'Quite, but no  _guarantee_. Those blips could be something that lasts a few seconds even at close proximity.'

'He's never been back to the island properly since. Always at a distance. Always hovering-'

'Because he knows-'

'Or is afraid of knowing. Maybe…' Bruce's eyes widen a little and he dashes over to a small warning-labeled containment area.

'What is it?' asks Alfred, hurrying after him, wiping his hands with a cloth.

Bruce holds out a couple of vials containing liquids of various colours. 'Maybe fear? Crane's formula. Concentrated.'

Frustrated, Alfred tosses aside the cloth and says, a little louder, 'The man  _inhaled_  a radioactive gas cloud last year, and you think-'

Bruce holds up a sliver of the glowing mineral and the green light on his face casts strange shadows and, for a split second, Alfred sees his old friend, Thomas Wayne, and his heart aches. Bruce says, 'But he didn't inhale this.'

'Do you  _really_  want to risk a  _frightened_  Kryptonian lashing out?'

Bruce grits his teeth as a part of the vision flashes in his mind: the shudder of the ground as Superman lands forcefully.

'No, you're right. You're right.'

* * *

_The First Church of Superman - webcast_

'This is a time for mourning for many, and a time of rejection. I advise you, my Brothers and Sisters, to not take the rejection to heart. Just as the Lord has accepted their rejection of Him and allows them to be, so, too, must we be patient.

'It is hard, I know. It is hard to hear what people say about Him, but we must hold on to the Truth.

'They have struck out at Him. Attacked Him. Endangered the lives of those around Him. And He has not punished them. Not yet.

'I cannot pretend to speak His mind and will not pretend to know His reasons. I will share this with you, however, that more and more I doubt that what happened did so by His hand. More and more, I see the work of those who have strived against Him.

'It is with that belief, my Brothers and Sisters, that I ask you not draw attention to yourselves if you choose to attend the mourning. Just as He has let them have their time, so should we.'

* * *

_LexCorp's Rockies Facility_

The 'Superman' kneels in a chamber. Its eyes are closed and its breathing is slow and shallow. Machines beep and hum and display all sorts of images, and several of them flash red words and errors.

Lex walks into the room and casts his eye over the scattered equipment. He lifts a few machines and sets them right, and then dusts off his hands and wipes them down the sides of his shirt.

He walks towards the chamber and glances at the screens. 'Why did you fly, little one? What angered you so? I didn't call you, did I?'

He stops and touches his forehead and he remembers looking at Diana and hearing her voice deep inside himself:  _What are you not telling us?_

He remembers all sorts of secrets tumbling around inside him. Malicious software loaded onto a business card and given to Lucius Fox; the secrets of Wayne Industries; Northcom and the millennia-old spaceship; cave paintings of the war between a god and a goddess; a dark planet spewing fire and another bluer than Earth; Shugel and his knowledge-quest, and so many others. He remembers the words compelling him to speak and he remembers choosing one of the secrets while holding on to another. He remembers choosing The Collector and its warnings while he held on to the 'Superman'.

He checks through the bio-readings and sighs, sadly. Stepping into the chamber he walks around the kneeling figure before crouching down in front of him. Its skin has greyed and Lex reaches out to touch its face but then stops himself. He looks at the back of the 'Superman's' right hand and shakes his head a little. It's swollen and something is protruding from the skin.

'It's happening faster, isn't it?' he says gently.

The room is silent and Lex looks at the 'Superman' for a few more seconds and then takes in a breath and slowly releases it as he stands up.

'OB-AP,' he says, conversationally, 'I know you're still here. A lot has happened these past few days, otherwise I would have been back here a lot sooner. You've looked after him, though, so thank you for that.'

'Hello Lex,' says a mature voice, similar to one that had been heard before, that seems to come from everywhere. It's still a little distorted, but it no longer sounds like a teenager. 'I was not sure if you would return. The suddenness of your last departure…'

'I thought we were friends.'

' _I_  thought you were giving me knowledge.'

'I was.'

'And yet, there is so much you did not share. Fifteen Earth years and-'

'So you punished me by using him?'

'I have no control over him, Lex, we agreed on that.'

'Then how-'

'It can only have been you. As you told your slaves, the Faraday Cage is never absolute.'

'"Slaves"?'

'You know all this already. You understand more than you want to. Perhaps.'

Aerial images of the stadium flash in Lex's mind and he remembers seeing a formation on the playing field, during the pre-game entertainment. An 'S'-shield… if seen from above.

And then anger.

Lex touches his forehead again and his fingers scratch at the skin a little.

'I would never have wanted-'

'Are you sure? We have been together a long time. Time in which you helped build Metropolis into what it is. The City of Tomorrow. Time in which your name was on everyone's lips. You heard the whispers of reverence, and when they turned to you in their terror and gratitude, and you embraced them-'

'I am not a murderer.'

'But you have wished it.'

Lex doesn't respond to the statement. Instead, he asks, 'What will you do now?'

'I must prepare to collect and preserve. The war is coming. The Persuasive One  _is_  here.'

'Who is he?'

A metallic skull, the size of an average adult human male's, on spider-like metal legs scuttles across the floor and leaps onto a worktop.

'Thank you for helping me piece myself back together,' it says. Its eyes flash but the 'face' remains still.

'I have to know who he is!'

'You will. In time.'

'OB-AP!'

'Thank you again, Lex. It has been… enlightening.'

The skull rises into the air and the legs fold in and metal tendrils appear instead. The air around the base of the skull shimmers and Lex grits his teeth and scowls as the skull glows a little and then disappears through the hole in the ceiling.

* * *

_Lois and Clark's apartment_

Papers are scattered across the floor and dining table, and pinned to various cork boards.

'It doesn't make any sense,' says Clark as he paces back and forth by the window. 'How can it be heat vision?'

'Anything more from the analysts about what blacked out those satellites?' asks Lois. She switches quickly between search tabs on her desktop and scribbles down a few notes.

'Nothing.' He scrolls through the emails on his tablet and then says, 'my contact at Wayne Industries says that the blackout was indiscriminate, as far as he's aware.'

'And there's  _still_  nothing from LexCorp.' She pushes her chair back and stands up.

'Even about the break-in?'

' _Complete_  denial.'

'None of this is making sense.'

'Are you sure?'

'What do you mean?'

'I mean, ever since Zod's attempted invasion, ever since you revealed yourself and started helping, people have been out to get you. Accusations, mostly, but you've had everything from survivors to local politicians to  _world leaders_  trying to tell everyone that you were dangerous. That we shouldn't trust you.'

'And there have been plenty saying the opposite, too.'

'Until now,' says Lois, and she points at the television Clark had set up to display half a dozen news channels at the same time. Five of them have, in the corner of the broadcast and behind their respective presenters, the S-shield covered with either a 'no entry' symbol, an 'X', or just a diagonal line.

'Until now.'

'Over a thousand people are dead, Clark. Some of them…' she shudders.

'I know. And there are hundreds still in there but-'

'So now  _everyone_  is afraid. Now everyone knows what you  _can_  do if you ever wanted to. I know it wasn't you.  _We_  know it wasn't you-'

'But all the evidence says that it was. If it didn't… if it didn't, I'd be out there right now, helping.' He gestures at the television screen again, and one of the broadcasts is showing rescue personnel pulling at misshapen metal.

'You can't help those who don't want to be helped.'

'I can try.'

'You did, Clark.' She walks over to him and takes his hands in hers. 'You did and they sent fighter jets and an arsenal after you. They risked hundreds…  _thousands_  of lives to get to you. Each time.'

'I thought… I was just trying to help.'

'I know, and a lot of people out there  _do_  know.'

One of the channels starts to show a new story, about a ship in trouble somewhere in the Atlantic. The headline banner reads:

_Mysterious rescue_.

Clark smiles, knowingly.

'Lex and the others have to be linked to this somehow. Those bullets, they  _have_  to be for you. Something they can use when they've lured you in.'

Clark nods. 'No one's used them yet, though.'

'No one's  _lured_  you yet.'

* * *

_An overgrown field on the outskirts of Gotham_

There is a low whirring sound and then, for three seconds, a series of 'booms' cascading into each other and echoing across the field. Concrete explodes and thick sheets of metal are punctured, torn apart, and even partially melted. The booms stop and the whirring slows down.

'A round from a Gatling on an F-35 snapped his head back before,' says Bruce, 'but he's stood up to Gatlings since then.'

'I dread to think what these might do,' says Alfred, and he kicks at a case of rounds.

'They'll do what they have to, Alfred. They have to.'

Alfred frowns and says, 'And you still haven't looked into how these designs came about?' Bruce grunts as he hoists the Gatling from its tripod. 'Ones your father rejected and Professor Winton made quite clear that he had regretted coming up with?'

'If we had had these ready when those aliens came,' snarls Bruce, lowering the gun into a container, 'everything would have been different.'

'Everything already  _is_  different.'

* * *

_LexCorp's Rockies facility_

A hologram of Mercy follows Lex as he walks through the abandoned labs, watching him as he tinkers with equipment and checks readings on various experiments.

'The caches have not been located,' says Mercy, 'but all records have been deleted. If they resurface then they won't be traced to us.'

'You're sure?'

'All LexCorp marked paraphernalia was left behind.'

' _He_  knows, though.'

'Sir.' Mercy looks down and then says, 'The Consortium members are getting restless. There's rumour spreading of something happening in Gotham and they don't want to talk to Luke Fox about it.'

Lex tuts and shakes his head. 'The Old Guard were never ones who liked a change they didn't bring about.'

'And Silas is missing.'

'Missing?'

'His son... the attack…'

Lex braces himself against a table. 'Victor?'

'Silas took his body from the site.'

'He took him? Then that's a good thing, Mercy. A good thing.'

'But he's gone off the grid.'

'Just… trust me.'

Mercy lowers her tablet and flickers a little. 'It's been almost half a week, Lex. Come back to Metropolis.'

'It's going to happen soon, Mercy.'

'What is, Sir?'

'God is going to die. Soon.'

'No one has seen him since he was chased away.'

'They will. He  _has_  to come back. It's what gods do when their faithful denounce them. And then we'll deny his godhood, take it away from him, and make him humble.'

* * *

_The Oval Office. The White House_

'How did you get this number?' asks the President, as he stands, warily.

'I'm going to deal with the problem,' says the gruff voice on the phone. 'Soon. But I need you to have Swanwick ready if things go wrong.'

'"Ready"?'

'He'll know what to do. Swanwick,  _not_  Eiling.'

* * *

_Metropolis Central Park – Memorial Square_

Mourners have assembled to pay their respects to those who were killed and injured in the stadium attack. Although there is a massive police presence, the gathering is peaceful, with many attendees just holding each other and sharing stories. Some look up to the sky – some fearfully, others hopefully – most just stare, tearfully, at something beyond their sight.

Outside the park, at each gate and at the main junctions, are even more police officers. Most are wearing body armour and are armed with non-lethal weapons for crowd control.

Some of the officers begin to move from their positions but their activity goes unnoticed by the mourners. A small barricade is quietly formed around the edges of the square and riot shields hum as they are joined together to form a wall. There is a distant rumble that gets louder and louder and the peace is broken when dozens of activists storm the square, shouting and roaring, and firing gas bombs into the air. They swing batons and bats and some have guns.

Activists shout into their megaphones and demand that Superman show himself.

'You came out to "save" people before. Come do it again. Come on! Save these people! We dare you!'

The riot shields glow and repel the projectiles thrown at them, and the rioters surge and charge only to find that the shields push them back, too. As they step back, some of them fire their guns into the air and then aim at the mourners. Shielded as they are from direct attacks, the mourners are effectively penned in.

'Your shields don't go over your heads, you pigs!' shouts one of the lead activists. There is a soft boom and a rocket-propelled grenade arcs into the air and then down into the crowd. The mourners scream and run towards the officers trying to protect them, and the grenade hits the ground and explodes.

Wind buffets the activists, pushing them back from the barricade, and yellow and blue lightning flashes in the air around them. Horizontally.

Barely five seconds pass and those among the activists who were armed are now weaponless, but unaware of this new fact. The shouts from the activists grow quieter and quieter and the officers forming the barricade look at each other, wide-eyed and confused, as they see the activists disappear.

Outside the park, at the main North entrance, officers who had been tackling groups of activists who had been trying to join the others in the park, lower their shields as the baton-battering they were trying to protect themselves from stops. In the middle of the road is a pile of weapons.

Over at the main South and East entrances, the officers experience a similar but different scene: as the attacks come to an end they find scores of rioters in the middle of the road, all handcuffed to each other.

Everyone, whether mourner or police officer or journalist or activist, looks up to the sky, but it's empty.

Under a road sign that says 'Metropolis 900 miles', a young man leans against one of the posts. His legs are vibrating so fast that they look like a blur and he huffs and gasps as he tries to catch his breath.

* * *

Now

_Channel 52 News_

The Bat-signal shines in the sky.

'Although the rumours were unverified before and the continued evacuation of Refuge Isle over the past week only adding to the rumours, it's now clear that The Bat-signal  _has_  been moved from the roof of Gotham's Central Precinct. Speculation abounds that The Dark Knight of Gotham is going to  _challenge_  the Man of Steel.

'Gotham and  _Federal_ authorities have imposed a no-fly zone around the island and most of Gotham, and Commissioner Bullock has said, and I quote, "Don't test us. Any of you newsies or anyone else who enters the zone  _will_  be shot down". That's quite the threat, and given Commissioner Bullock's history…

'With confirmation now that the island has been completely evacuated, and further verification of Federal involvement, it looks like whatever The Batman is going to do is  _sanctioned_  by the Government.'

* * *

_White House Situation Room_

After the events of the Black Zero Incident and his continued interactions with Superman, General Swanwick found himself offered the position of Secretary of State of the US. It was never a role he wanted or had ever aspired to but he saw how things had changed and were continuing to change, and he was afraid.

Still flushed and irritated from his argument with one of his aides, Swanwick pauses as he enters the room and casts a glance over the range of personnel from the military, technical and legal fields that had been pulled together.

'Status,' he says, firmly, and his voice prompts a quick hush to descend on the room.

'Drones are in the area, armed and ready, Sir' says an analyst.

'All commercial flights are grounded or diverted, Sir,' says another.

'Airspace is clear.'

'Press corps helicopters are just outside the zone.'

Swanwick takes in a slow breath and picks up the phone. 'We're ready, Sir.' He listens to the voice on the other end and nods a couple of times. 'I understand, Mr President. Are you sure you don't want to be down here?' He leans forward and presses a button on the speaker in front of him. 'You have the room, Sir.'

'Ladies and Gentlemen,' says the President, 'what may happen in the next few hours is something you have all prepared for over the last two years, and its initiation is something I did not do on a whim.

'The safety and security of the citizens of our country are paramount and there will be no discharge of nuclear weapons within or around our borders. None.

'I don't know what The Batman has planned but I do know that Superman has to be brought in.'

* * *

_LexCorp's Rockies facility_

'The story of Babel isn't as unique as people think. You probably have something similar where you're from, too. Mortals rising up against gods. Mortals sacrificing everything to gain justice.

'That's what this is all about, you know? A war of gods with us caught in the middle, as always. The gods fight, get bored, and leave us to pick up the pieces.

'What's the story from your world? I hear "Rao" but then I just see… a red giant. An aged star pulsing in the sky. Is that what's to come or what you have seen? I'm assuming the latter.

'"Rao". Did he divide you all, too? Did he lure you together and then scatter you? Our gods did. From the Lozi people to the Tohono O'odham and the Sumerians and onwards. All of them tell the story of the tower and the gods fearing us and destroying it. Thousands of us die. Millions, even. All because we wanted to be better and the gods knew we could be and became terrified of us.

'Soon they will come together. Night and Day. Man and god. One more time, and they will fight and god will fall.'

Lex kneels in front of the 'Superman' and cradles his face in his hands.

'Dying. You're dying and all that you are will come to an end. Everything inside will be gone. I've tried to encourage you to share. I've helped to heal you. Nourish you. Nurture you. I even clothed you.

He leans forward and touches his forehead against the 'Superman's'.

'All this and you still close your mind to me. You refuse to teach me. To let me see and learn and understand.'

He lets go and stands up.

'Yet you're dying and all will be lost.

'I'm your father, I rebirthed you. You're my son, you were reborn by me. But now, the son becomes the father, the father the son.'

He closes his eyes and three small discs, hidden under the skin, glow on his forehead.

* * *

_Gotham_

The Bat Signal lights up a part of the rainy sky and helicopters can be seen circling, with the no-fly zone being wide enough for them not to be heard. Other searchlights comb the sky, some

Superman hovers in the air, just beside a cloud that has been illuminated by the signal.

Lightning tears through the sky, masking the spotlights and signal, and thunder claps and rumbles.

He glances at the drones and helicopters and then down at the area below. His eyes glow a little and he frowns when he sees some of the traps that have been set up. The furrows in his brow deepen and he squints a little before relaxing his eyes as he realises that some sections of the buildings and grounds around Batman are lined with lead. He remembers the Wayne Foundry and what he had said to the firemen there.

He focuses on Batman and sees him look up at him, and then he hears him say, 'The signal's lit,  _Kal-El_. What say you?'

He takes in a deep breath and lets himself fall through the light of the signal. He hears the confusion and excitement broadcast through the air around him and he slams into the ground.

Long range microphones in the helicopters squeal, forcing sound engineers in their respective studios and cameramen in the helicopters to remove their headphones.

He holds up his hands. 'Bruce. Batman, I'm not here to fight.'

Batman snorts, rolls his shoulders as static fills his ears, and steps forward. 'You came to me years ago, asking me to train you. To teach you. Today, here, right now, I'm going to give your first and last lesson.'

Superman walks towards him. 'Dammit, you're the  _best_  detective this world has ever seen,  _why_  are you being so blind?!'

'I was never blind to your threat, Kal-El, I just wasn't ready for it.'

'"Ready"?' He glances at the traps again and at Batman's armour and takes in a slow breath.

Batman grins and fires half a dozen tasers from his gauntlet. Their gooey ends stick to Superman's suit, hands, neck and face. There's a hiss as a panel casing detaches from Batman's forearm and Superman frowns again as he notices the thin cables trail off into a vent behind Batman.

As he reaches for the cables, Superman says, 'This isn't-'

Electricity pours into Superman and, in the distance, the city's lights go out.

Superman roars.

* * *

_Batcave_

'Sir, nothing is transmitting. Newsfeeds are blind. Bruce… say something.'

* * *

_Gotham Globe_

'Get those other generators up and running. No point keeping the server rooms live if there's nothing coming in.'

* * *

_Various helicopters circling the area_

'Keep filming.'

'Keep transmitting.'

* * *

_Situation Room_

'Sir, the Presidential comms are dead.'

'Get him back on the line.'

Superman's roar as he struggles against the electricity coursing through him causes the nearby buildings to crack and heave.

Batman hunches over himself as the vibrations rattle through him. He gasps and laughs hoarsely as he watches Superman stagger and tug off the tasers. Around them, a couple of buildings shudder as their walls and facades peel loose and fall to the ground.

'Guess that makes this next one a little easier to introduce,' Batman growls, and he tosses what looks like a grenade. It doesn't explode. Instead, it screams.

'Hypersonics,' says Batman, but no one can hear him.

_Batcave_

'Auto-scanning through all encrypted frequencies. The plane is ready but I can't hear you.'

The computers ping and Batman's voice says, 'It took years.'

'It took years for us to decode Shugel's logs. Barbara and Dick did it. After her father was… after Jim was murdered, it was one of the few things she  _insisted_  on doing after the Clown…'

A memory of the wheelchair flashes in his mind.

'He had a lot of interesting things to say about you, 'Clark'. He was very thorough.'

'Shugel?' Superman shakes his head as he lets the crushed grenade fall from his fingers and then grinds the pieces with his boot.

Batman smirks. 'You didn't find out? Not surprising.'

Superman frowns a little and then his eyes widen as he understands. 'The… containment place. Was Shugel?'

Machines whine and whir and three Gatling guns rise up out of their enclosures and point at Superman.

'Nothing short of a bursting shell can pierce your skin, that what his files said.'

A barrage of bullets strikes Superman, puncturing the ground around him and forcing him to cover his face. There is a shift in the sound of the guns and explosion after explosion, each one less than 30 milliseconds apart, and the air is on fire. Beyond the crouched Kryptonian, buildings explode and collapse. Despite being pushed back by the concussive force of the waves of explosions, Superman stands tall and rises into the air. His eyes glow red and a beam of heat cuts across the battle area and destroys the guns.

'Maybe seventeen years ago, sure. I'm not that teenager anymore, though.'

He catches some of the last few bullets as he descends and looks at them and sees they're the ones he and Lois had been investigating.

' _You_?' He lands, looks at the bullets again and crushes them, ignoring their small explosions, smothered by his hands. His mouth twists with anger and he stalks forward. 'All this time?' he growls, and his eyes turn red again.

Surprised at Superman's anger, Batman steps back a couple of paces and reaches for a gun holstered on his right leg.

Superman mutters again, 'It was you the whole time. I thought you understood.'

He grabs Batman and flies up through a building and then tosses him onto the roof.

'Stay down. If I wanted it, you'd be dead already.'

Breathless, surprised and confused by Superman's anger, Batman pushes himself back onto his feet. The HUD in his visor tells him that his armour is intact and that the impact had charged his back-up power cells. In the lower right of the display, it says that the sound absorbers are active.

He looks up at the sky, at the symbol shining on the clouds, and pulls out a canister.

Superman shakes his head and steps forward. 'There's no need for any of this,  _Batman_. If you'd just listen we can work together and makes things right. Get to the truth.'

Batman tosses the canister and readies himself. A dense cloud of lead particle gas explodes from the canister and Superman's eyes glow a bluish-white as he tries to look through the thick cloud. The split second of blindness frustrates him and Superman dashes into the cloud and disperses it.

The Batman is not there.

'Hnh,' says Batman, a small smile breaks across his lips, and Superman turns to look at him and sighs. The armoured vigilante stands a dozen feet away, shouldering a grenade gun. 'You never answered my question last time. Tell me: Do you bleed?'

Batman fires.

Superman catches the bullet-grenade at arm's length and frowns as he looks at it. It bursts open and green gas envelopes the Man of Steel. His eyes sting and the sudden pain makes him breathe in in surprise.

He shakes his head, suddenly groggy and disorientated, and drops the bullet-grenade.

'You will.' Batman holsters the launcher and steps forward.

Superman coughs, staggers, and falls. Batman's gauntlets whir.

* * *

_Channel 52 news chopper_

'Superman's on his knees and our mics are out of range!' shouts the cameraman. 'We have to get closer!'

'I told you,' shouts the pilot, 'we're not taking chances with Bullock's threat!'

* * *

_LexCorp Rockies facility_

Lex opens his eyes and sees himself standing slightly hunched and with his eyes closed. 'This is quite strange,' he mutters, 'and I definitely need a trim.'

The 'Superman' turns and looks at itself in the reflective metal. It sees the reversed symbol on its chest.

Images flash through Lex's mind – a blond woman wearing a grey version of the symbol, shouting angrily. A panel of people wearing strange robes and headdresses. The inside of a spacecraft, with space visible outside. The blue-green Earth coming closer and closer.

The blond woman lunging with a crystal in her hand.

'Argh,' Lex roars, as he grabs his right hand. The 'Superman's' right hand. He grits his teeth and shakes off the pain, clenching his fist as he does so.

'The things you can see and hear,' he whispers. 'The things  _I_  can see and hear. And do.'

He breathes out slowly and adjusts the cape around his shoulders. He looks down at the floor and shifts his stance a little wider, then he holds his hands out a little wider than his shoulders, palms facing upwards, and rises into the air.

'Let's go see what's happening in person.'

* * *

Superman's head snaps back as Batman drives his armoured fist forward. Again and again.

'You're a Trojan Horse made flesh.'

'No,' murmurs Superman. His eyes are closed and his skin is tinted green. On his knees, Superman pushes him back but Batman barely moves. 'You don't understand.' His hands slide down the armour and his body contorts as a wave of pain crashes through him.

Batman kicks Superman across the face. 'Shugel was right to capture you. The mistake he made was in keeping you alive.'

Superman pushes himself onto his knees again. His hands shake and his breath is wheezy and ragged.

'The mistake I made was in setting you free.'

Batman's fist stops as Alfred's voice comes through over the cowl's communication device: ' _zzz-_  come in.'

Superman staggers and tries to stand as he gulps in air, and Batman dashes to the side and fires his grapple, punching through the wall of building opposite.

'Send it in. Now!'

He soars through the air and smashes through a wall and rolls to a stand on an empty floor. Loud hums fill the air and a strong wind takes hold of Superman's cape. The Batplane hovers and its gun turrets target the Kryptonian.

Hundreds of explosions, each one more violent than the ones caused by the Gatling barrage, tear up the ruined building and set the air on fire.

The building collapses.

* * *

General Eiling storms into the situation room, flanked by half a dozen soldiers with another dozen close behind. He ignores anyone who tries to block his path, allowing his soldiers to push them out of the way.

'The President has been moved to Camp David and has authorised me to take over,' he says, authoritatively, signalling at his men to take their positions.

Secretary Swanwick, visibly enraged, walks over to Eiling. 'The President told me,  _in person_ , that you were not allowed down here under any circumstances.'

'The President, Mr Secretary, has been moved to Camp David and has authorised me to take over.'

'Sir,' says one of the technicians, 'the comms are still down.'

'The drones are picking up explosions and fires,' says another.

'Clearly,' says Eiling, 'the President realised things were getting out of hand, which is why

'Sir,' interrupts Major Farris, 'Camp David says they don't know anything about the President coming and the House staff says the Oval Office has been sealed.'

Eiling glares at her and then at Swanwick.

'Tell your men to stand down and  _sit down_ , General,' says Swanwick, his face inches away from Eiling's.

'The President-'

'Sit  _down_ , General.'

Eiling smiles and turns away. 'Let's watch them make a mess of things, boys,' he says, and he waves his hand and walks over to an empty chair.

* * *

The HUD in Batman's visor shows an intensely hot fire burning away where a building used to be, as the Batplane hovers just at the edge of the inferno.

'Stay ready.'

'Sir.'

'The gas worked but he's still too strong. I didn't even cut him.'

'According to these scans, the whole building is being liquefied. Everything. Perhaps… maybe he drowned?'

'Just stay ready.'

'Satellite imaging is telling me there's something human-sized in the sky. Nearby. Hovering.'

'It must be her.'

'In the sky?'

'You have any other explanation?'

A fist punches its way out of a mass of fiery liquid-rubble and Superman grunts as he wades his way through a white-hot 'lava' made of concrete and metal and pushes aside huge chunks of the burning remains of floors and walls.

The sky groans and rumbles and rain begins to fall.

Superman looks up at Batman and slowly rises from the 'lava'.

'Drop it!' shouts Batman and the undercarriage of the Batplane opens and lets go of a green gel.

* * *

_A.R.G.U.S Armory, Maryland_

Waller and Steve watch footage being displayed on a wall of screens. Along with the media footage, some of the feeds are from bodycams of A.R.G.U.S personnel heading to the battle and others are from drones already on site.

'He just couldn't leave it alone, could he?' moans Waller. 'Damn night rat.'

Steve shrugs and says, 'Seems to be doing okay. That gas he used…'

They watch the green gel smother Superman and both of them lean closer to the screens as he falls from the sky and slams onto the roof of another building.

Dense rain obscures the drone's camera as Batman leaps down.

'Superman hasn't punched him yet. Fool's going to get himself killed.'

* * *

_In the sky_

The 'Superman' frowns and focuses its attention on the battle raging far below as Batman grabs Superman by his cape and throws him across the rooftop. It looks past the helicopters circling the area and concentrates on the man dressed in blue and covered in green goo.

Superman struggles to push himself up and then his arms give way and he collapses onto his back. The 'Superman's eyes widen when it sees the S-shield on the Man of Steel's chest.

Images of the blond woman kissing and eating and then shouting, fighting and laughing bombard the 'Superman'. It then sees images of people in strange headdresses and hears the words 'By Order of the Council'. It sees its hands bound and hears the word 'Guilty' repeated over and over.

It sees the blond woman again and understands that she has a link to the blue-clothed man far below.

'El!' it roars, and it tries to propel itself down.

* * *

Punctuating his words with punches, forcing Superman to the ground, Batman roars, 'Who. The Hell. Do you think. You. Are?!'

He huffs and steps back, his gauntlets humming, and Superman pushes himself up from his knees and stands. His cheek is cut and bleeding and his mouth is swelling. 'A friend.'

Batman snaps out a sidekick, the enhancements in his armour giving him the power he needs to send Superman soaring backwards across the rooftop and onto a skylight. He grunts and leaps, twenty feet into the air, and then grins as he drives himself into Superman's chest and smashes them both into the room below.

Superman kicks Batman off himself and through a bathroom wall. They both roll onto their feet and look at each other. Water from burst pipes sprays and pours around them and Batman tosses something into a puddle near Superman and then turns to shield himself from an explosion. The building shudders and chunks of it peel off as the floors give way, exposing the inside to the rain.

Batman charges at Superman rams into him, pushing them both out of the building and down to the empty and broken street below.

Again, Superman kicks Batman off himself. Again, they stand and face each other.

'Across the world,' says Batman, 'people are dying because of you. The tsunami that would have washed away hundreds of thousands-'

'Didn't. I stopped it, Bruce.'

'It happened because of you.'

Superman stands up a little straighter and holds out his hands. 'I've made mistakes, I know that. I  _accept_  that I bear responsibility for Dick and Barbara and-'

'Helena. I would have suggested Helena.'

'I accept all that. I do. But Jason and Gordon, that isn't fair-'

Batman punches him again and the gauntlet crumples.

'And you know it's not.'

Batman's arms are raised, ready.

'Your gas worked. Your gloop worked. You found a weakness, like you always do, but now we-'

He suddenly pushes Batman, sending him flying backwards and skipping along the ground, tearing up the asphalt.

The glowing discs on Lex's forehead flicker and turn dull.

* * *

_News chopper overhead_

'Looks like the talking is over, folks! Superman just-'

The helicopter jerks in the air, battered by the shockwave of something streaking past it.

* * *

'El!'

Superman looks up as the roared name fills the air and then there is an explosion and dust and rain.

Batman picks himself up, stunned by what has just happened, and hurries to the edge of the newly-formed crater.

The ground shudders and explodes and the HUD flickers as it skips through different viewing modes. In murky infra-red, it shows two figures, one on its knees and the other raining down blow after blow.

'Alfred, what the hell just happened?'

'Somehow… there's another one.'

'Shit.'

* * *

General Eiling leaps out of his hair and points at the screens. 'What the hell is that?!'

'Another Superman, sir.'

Eiling turns and jabs at Swanwick's chest with his finger. 'He  _lied_  to us when he said they were gone.'

'He didn't lie, General.'

'Then you explain it, Mr Secretary, Sir,' snarls Swanwick through grit teeth.

'Sir,' interrupts Major Farris, 'reports are coming in of tremors in Gotham and Metropolis.'

'They're-'

'Hitting so hard they're causing an earthquake.'

Swanwick looks up at the dust-filled screens. 'How do we know which one is Superman?'

'Like it matters,' says Eiling, and he gestures at his men. ' _This_  is why the President sent me in. Tactical. Precision. Nukes.'

'What?'

* * *

The Batplane banks and flies in a wide circle around the area.

The 'Superman' grabs Superman by his head and throws him out of the crater and into one of the helicopters.

In the facility in the Rockies, Lex, eyes still closed, staggers and slumps to his knees. The skin on his forehead looks normal and beads of sweat trickle down his temples.

The disabled helicopter, tail missing, spins in the air and then jerks to a stop. The rotors are bent and hang limply but, underneath, Superman, fingers pressed into the metal, takes control of its flight and moves it away from the battle site.

' _That's_  the real one,' shouts one of the technicians.

Eiling scowls at him.

The 'Superman' walks up the side of the crater and looks around. It sees Batman and then turns to see where Superman is.

It looks at Batman again.

'No,' murmurs Lex.

The 'Superman' looks at his right hand and then at Batman again.

Lex's eyes flicker and then he squeezes them tight and the discs on his forehead light up again. 'No, no, no. Kal-El is fine, Batman isn't.'

Batman stares at the 'Superman' and begins edging backwards. His breathing becomes rapid and shallow. An alert flashes in his HUD and Batman sees the vision Kronos had given him: of Superman coming towards him.

Dev-Em stalks forward, drifting, snarling, his feet scraping along the ground. His face contorts and the grimace shifts from looking like Kal-El to looking like someone else. He reaches for Batman but Superman grabs his arm and pulls him away from him.

Dev-Em keeps trying to reach, his right hand opening and closing, as if not noticing that Superman is holding him back. He steps forward and Superman's foot slides a little and he grunts and looks at Batman earnestly.

'Run.'

Batman's nod is almost imperceptible. He vaults backwards, the enhancements in his armour pushing him many times further than he would be able to leap otherwise, and shouts 'Ears'.

Superman grits his teeth and scrunches his eyes tight. Dev-Em roars as Batman deploys another hypersonic grenade. He pulls away from Superman and covers his ears.

The Batplane swoops around and fires.

'Forgive me, Superman,' Alfred mutters, as the bullets rain down on the two Kryptonians, exploding on impact.

Batman leaps away again and activates some jets hidden in the armour, just as Dev-Em unleashes his heat vision on Superman and the Batplane.

The blast tears up the ground around Superman and Dev and the fire spreads out quickly, adding to the fires started by the exploding bullets. Pieces of concrete and rubble are thrown into the air and some hit Batman and send him tumbling. He staggers to his feet, bracing himself as the ground shakes.

'Your heart is racing, sir.'

'I'm running for my life, Alfred. Shut up.'

* * *

Dev-Em roars and, suddenly, he begins morphing. His legs swell and tear open the blue leggings and he grabs at the S-shield on his chest and rips it off. Multi-coloured lightning dances across his chest and limbs and he roars again and tears at his face.

Superman steps forward, reaching out for the roaring figure, but a burst of energy pushes him back.

In the Rockies' facility, Lex stumbles backwards and clutches his chest as his face contorts with pain.

Dev-Em throws his hands up in the air, clenches his fists, and slams them into the ground. 'El!' he roars, and then he turns to look at Superman. Lightning sparks across his face and in his eyes. 'El,' he growls.

'I am Kal-El,' says Supeman, in Kryptonian.

Dev-Em's snarls and his skin cracks and bursts. He looks at his hands and flexes his fingers, and his skin pulses and throbs. The blue sleeves tear and hang loose.

'I don't know how you're here,' says Superman, again in Kryptonian, 'but I want to help you.'

Dev-Em falls onto one knee as his skin turns grey and stoney. The scar on his face glows and the skin on his right hand tears and pushes out pieces of crystal. He stares at it and then at Superman's chest.

'El!' he roars, louder than ever, and there is a massive discharge of energy.

* * *

Lex cries out in pain and holds his head and slumps to the ground, unconscious. The three circles on his forehead spark and disappear.

* * *

Waller taps her ear and says, 'Get the bio-foam ready.'

Steve glances at her and then looks at the monitors. 'Don't you dare go down there, Diana,' he mutters.

* * *

In the control room of a television news station scores of people rush around. A producer grabs the shoulder of one of the monitor crew and points at his screen.

'What the hell is going on down there?'

'There're two of them.'

'Two of what?'

'Supermen.'

The screens go blank.

* * *

The pulse of energy grows and, within seconds, it covers an area almost a mile wide. It then collapses in on itself, and back into Dev-Em, before pulsing back out again.

Helicopters in the 'safe zone' start to fall.

Superman leaps into the air, determined, and tries to catch and save each one. Some he tosses a little higher into the air so he can deal with the ones closer to crashing, others he cushions with blasts of his breath.

On the ground, Batman stands immobile, his suit rendered useless by the energy wave released by Dev-Em. His fingers flex and his gauntlets pop off but his arms refuse to move. His HUD is blank and one of his lenses is obscured. In the distance, he sees Dev-Em shudder and grow.

Dev-Em clambers upright and looks around himself. Standing at eleven feet tall, he looks like a huge rocky beast. He rolls his shoulders and growls and then laughs. He turns and sees Batman frozen in place.

The front of the armour hisses and falls forward.

'Bah!' Dev-Em snarls, and purple-white lightning fritzes across his eyes as the whites turn red.

Batman's eyes widen as he realises what's about to happen. 'Oh sh-'

Red and white and purple energy blasts out of Dev-Em's eyes.

The energy hits something and there is a strange humming sound as it is redirected, striking the ruins in the immediate area and turning things to dust.

Batman lowers his hands and squints to see through the bright light.

Diana stands in front of him, arms raised and crossed, her bracers glowing. She glances at Batman and shakes her head a little.

Dev-Em roars and Diana takes a couple of steps forward and then slams her bracers together, sending out a sonic shockwave, disorienting the beast and tearing up the ground, knocking him back.

Superman lands between Batman and Diana.

'That's bought us a little time,' he says to Diana, and she nods and looks out over the ruined island.

'What the hell is it?' says Batman, stepping out of the rest of the armour. 'He looked just like you.'

Superman looks out over the ruined area and at Dev-Em, crouched on the ground and pounding at his head to clear it of the ringing noises. 'He's from my world.'

'What? How? You have a brother?'

He shakes his head and takes a few steps forward. 'He stowed away on the scout ship that came here eighteen thousand years ago. I saw the logs.'

Diana shrugs. 'Immortality is nothing new.'

'He's supposed to be dead.'

'The door to Hades has opened many times,' she draws her sword and twirls it quickly and takes off the shield strapped to her back. Then she, too, steps forward, and past Superman. 'And I've killed things from other worlds before.'

'She with you?' Superman asks Batman.

'Thought she was with you.'

'I know I don't have to tell either of you,' says Superman, 'but mind your surroundings. He's at least as strong as me and we don't know what the energy he keeps emitting is doing.'

He disappears, dust dancing in the air where he had just been, and Dev-Em roars as Superman slams into him.

'You were wrong about him,' says Diana.

'Maybe,' says Batman.

She shakes her head. 'Let's make things right,' she says, and then she leaps into the fight.

* * *

As the ground shakes and the air rumbles, Batman moves back to his armour and starts taking off weapons and other parts. He attaches things to his belt, gauntlets and boots.

'Come in!' Alfred's voice crackles over the communications device in Batman's cowl.

'I'm here.'

'Thank God.'

'He's  _not_  here.'

'Droll. The President called but his line was garbled. He said Eiling had taken over.'

'How long do we have?'

'Ten minutes, maybe fifteen until the disruptions in the area lessen enough.'

'How long to reload the plane?'

'At least twenty.'

'And the drones?'

'They won't be able to get through the interference yet, but I have them on the way.'

'If you see an opening, do it.'

'Sir.'

'Alfred.'

'Sir?'

'I'll make you Eggs Florentine for breakfast.'

'I look forward to it, Sir. Keeping the comms open.'

* * *

Superman and Diana tag-team Dev-Em. The beast now stands at over twenty feet in height and thick bone spurs are protruding from its elbows and knees.

Diana dashes in, ducking under the beast's swinging arm, and slashes the back of its right leg. Lightning sparks from the gaping wound and Dev-Em roars and swings wildly. Superman drives himself into its back with his feet and the ground heaves as the beast slams into the ground.

Superman quickly flies up into the sky and uses his heat vision to liquify the area while Dev-Em scrambles to get some purchase and sinks into the dense 'lava'.

'That's not going to hold him long,' says Superman, landing beside Diana.

'How much like you is he?'

'Enough. I think.'

'So, the gas?'

'You saw that?'

'I tried to keep an eye on things, especially after-'

'That wasn't me.'

'I knew that before he appeared.'

Superman smiles a little, the cut on his cheek healed, and then looks up and frowns. 'The helicopters are back.' He focuses on one helicopter in particular and sees Lois holding onto a hand strap, dictating into her phone.

'They don't give up, do they?'

'And neither do we,' growls Batman.

'They're calling him Doomsday,' says Superman.

'Hnh.'

'Reporters aren't superstitious and cowardly, it's just some of them like creating a headline.'

Batman's mouth opens but he holds back on his retort and says, 'The drones are on their way.'

'Drones?'

'Loaded with the gas and gel.'

'How long?'

'Five minutes.'

'Shall we?'

Dev-Em breaks free, roaring and laughing. He rushes at the trio, moving faster than before. Superman catches his punch, spins him around and slams him into the ground. Diana leaps in and 'Doomsday' twists and throws Superman into her.

The beast laughs again and leaps at Superman, grabbing him by his legs and slamming him into the ground, repeatedly. He then tosses Superman into the air and lunges at Diana. She blocks his punch with her shield and kicks at his left knee, breaking off the protruding bone. Electricity sparks around him and Diana dashes past him, cutting the side of his chest open with her sword.

Doomsday roars and stomps at the ground. His shoulders twist and roll and he grows wider.

Gold cord wraps around the monster's neck and then around its left hand. He tugs and his arm is pulled to his side. Confused, he reaches for the cord with its free hand, only for Superman to punch him and break its jaw.

Doomsday staggers back and shudders, its left arm still immobile.

Superman appears beside Batman and says, 'Your drones are a minute away.'

'Alfred's keeping them at a distance so this thing's EMP or whatever it is doesn't affect them.'

'It's like some kind of…' he looks at his fist and Batman frowns when he sees the grazed knuckles. 'He's healing,  _rapidly_  regenerating, but his body is doing it wrong and adapting.'

'To what?'

'Us.'

Diana slices Doomsday open from his right hip to his left shoulder and the beast roars as it unleashes another energy blast, one that knocks them all back and cuts out Batman's comms.

In the distance, circling a little ahead of the news choppers, the drones begin to fall.

Batman grabs Superman by the shoulders and points at the drones. 'I'll distract him, you two catch them!'

Pushing herself to her feet, Diana stares at him, wide-eyed, 'Are you  _crazy_?'

Batman shakes his head. 'He's fast but he doesn't have either of your speed.'

'Yet,' she says.

'Go,' he urges them. 'It's our best chance.'

Superman and Diana leap into the air, over the energy-crackling monster, towards the two silent drones.

Batman turns something on his left gauntlet and vaults towards Doomsday. As the energy-shell encasing the beast calms down, Batman fires tasers plugged into power-pack he had retrieved from his armour. He drops the power-pack as Doomsday writhes and shouts, once more: 'El!'

Twisting and turning, Doomsday finds the cables and pulls them off the back of his arms and legs. He glares and them and then sees Batman crouching next to some rubble.

'Bah!' he says, and he stalks towards the Dark Knight. Batman empties a clip of the explosive bullets, forcing Doomsday to cover his face, but it doesn't stop the behemoth from quickly approaching.

Batman fires a grapple at the fifth floor of a shell of a building and leaps away, evading Doomsday's punch. Barely.

Pausing next to the grapple head as it winds back into the grapple-gun, Batman fires another dozen rounds before using the grapple-gun again, moving out of the way just as Doomsday barrels into the wall.

In the sky, holding the drone above her head, Diana watches Batman's cat-and-mouse game with Doomsday. With a grim look on her face, she punches into the drone and pulls out the gas canister hidden inside. She tugs at some cables and turns a couple of dials. As Batman leaps to another ruined building, Diana tucks the canister under her left arm and throws the drone at Doomsday.

The drone explodes against Doomsday's back and he turns to look up at his attacker. Diana then throws the gas canister at him. He roars and writhes and punches at the ground as the gas envelopes him. He staggers but doesn't fall.

Superman suddenly tears open the drone he was holding and the green gloop contained within slithers out and smothers the monster.

Doomsday falls to his knees; his roars stop and his arms hang loosely by his side. Silent, the monster collapses.

'Is it over?' asks Diana.

'I can't hear his heart,' says Superman.

Batman steps out from behind some rubble, the grenade-gun in his hands, and walks towards Superman and Diana.

'Is there any way to destroy it?'

'Maybe on the scout ship.'

'We have to make it quick. If Eiling gets his hands on it-'

'He won't.'

'And neither will Waller,' says Diana.

_Ba-dum_

'No,' breathes Superman.

_Ba-dum_

'What is it?' asks Batman. Diana raises her shield and steps closer to Doomsday.

Lightning crackles over the massive body and the green goo starts to smoke and burn.

Superman looks up at the sky, squinting for a couple of seconds. 'I've got a four-minute window,' he says.

'For what?'

'To limit the risk of him affecting any satellites.'

'What do you mean?' asks Diana.

'He can't fly right now.'

'Yet,' says Batman, chambering his grenade-gun.

Doomsday snaps awake and leaps up around two hundred feet into the air, energy tendrils punching into the ground and air. Diana shields Batman against the stray blasts.

'I'm taking him to the island.'

Batman holds out the gun, 'I have-'

'What you  _had_  isn't enough. We have to end this and the island's the only place.' He gestures at Diana. 'We need to bind him first.'

Diana lowers her shields and brandishes the lasso. 'What island?

'Away from here,' says Batman.

'From everyone,' says Superman. 'Tell Swanwick to be ready.'

Diana and Superman rush at Doomsday as he slams into the ground, and flank him, taking advantage of Doomie's desire to grab Superman. With speed and grace, Diana binds him, leaping back as Superman barrels into writhing creature and pushes him up into the air and disappears into the dark clouds overhead.

'Up, up, and away,' whispers Batman.

'Where's the island?' asks Diana.

'At the end of the world,' says Batman, his fingers dancing over a small keyboard on his left gauntlet.

'And Superman?'

Batman doesn't say anything. He looks up as dozens of drones surround them, hovering and waiting.

'The interference is gone,' says Diana.

'Track them,' says Batman.

'Of course,' says Alfred.

* * *

Doomsday flails and writhes but the golden lasso doesn't stretch or give way. The air thins and crystals begin to form on both him and Superman. Superman pushes harder and the warps as he shifts to ten times the speed of sound. He then banks slightly and the Earth is a bright blue below them.

Doomsday's face begins to glow and burn.

On the ships surrounding World's End island, anchored 30 miles away, dozens of people look up and watch the 'comet' streaking across the sky.

Superman and Doomsday slam into the heart of the island and a cloud of dust half a mile high fills the air.

Somehow, the continued growth of the beast, coupled with the heat and the impact, the lasso has loosened. Superman rolls onto his back and coughs, tired, with flecks of green on his face. Doomsday grunts and growls as his body knits itself back together and more bone protrusions tear through his flesh.

Littered throughout the crater their impact created are green crystals. Doomsday lurches to his feet and stumbles forward.

'No,' says Superman, and Doomsday stops and looks at him.

Superman staggers and raises his fists. He looks like a punch-drunk boxer and his skin is greener than before.

'El,' growls Doomsday, and he steps towards the Last Son of Krypton. He frowns and looks at its hands. The cuts from the new bone protrusions are not healing.

Superman pushes off the ground and punches Doomsday with an uppercut. Red stains the white bone-spurs on Doomsday's jaw.

Doomsday brings both its arms down to slam into Superman but Superman catches them, grunting with the effort, and then kicks off the bone protrusion on Doomsday's right knee. Doomsday howls, throwing his head back in pain and pushing himself away from Superman. Superman dashes in and throws a series of punches at Doomsday's throat and, when the beast covers its neck with its massive hands, he follows up with a barrage of blows to its chest.

Doomsday swings his arms out wide, back-handing the Man of Steel, and sends him careening into the side of the crater. Superman slumps to his knees, his face bloody, and coughs up blood. Doomsday staggers forward and stomps on Superman, repeatedly, driving his head into the ground. He then reaches down and tears off Superman's cape and tosses it away.

Superman grabs Doomsday's massive ankle and slams him into the wall of rock. His face is caked with blood and dirt and his eyes are red.

'Bah!' snarls Doomsday, and his eyes turn red, too.

A heat vision battle ensues, and the two Kryptonians cut loose, melting rocks and crystals around them. The red beams turn white and then blue and the air begins to burn.

The two are so focused on their battle that they don't notice the missile streaking down towards them. The ensuing explosion catches them unawares and forces them apart.

Kal-El tumbles through the air, desperately trying to regain control and fly, turning over and under, searching for Doomsday.

And then he falls.

Doomsday slams into the ground and stares at the sky. Memories of the blond woman crying as she held the body of a dead man to her chest tug a smile at the beast's mouth. He tries to get up but collapses back. Pieces of green rock are embedded in its chest and the purple-white lightning darkens and flickers and then turns black.

Its enhanced healing falters and then stops. A memory of the blond woman shouting at him and the head-dressed people glaring at him makes him growl and he says, one last time, 'El.'

As the last of the flames dance and crackle and hiss, the island falls silent.

Doomsday's skin tears and peels away and his flesh turns black and into a rotten goo littered with pieces of green crystal.

Half a mile away, Kal lies on the ground, face down. His suit is torn up and his back is bloody.

* * *

Aerial drones hover over the island. Distorted images appear on the screens in the Situation Room.

'No movement, sir.'

'Take out that blasted island,' snarls Eiling. 'Finish it.'

* * *

'It's over,' says Batman.

'Are you sure?'

'They're going to wipe out the island.'

'And Superman?'

Batman doesn't say anything. Instead, he looks up at the helicopters hovering overhead, and one in particular: the  _Daily Planet_  one.

'So you got what you wanted?' says Diana.

'Kronos… in the museum, you said I should be wary of what I saw-'

'Kronos likes to play games. He shows… things, but they're not always true and almost never in context.'

'What I saw-'

'Do you still believe he would have tried to bring about the end of the world? Even now?'

He looks around at the devastated area and then up at the sky. He remembers Dev-Em's contorted face and his clawing hand reaching for his heart, stopped only because of Superman. He remembers Superman getting to his feet after all the attacks and blows inflicted on him, his face swelling and cheek bloody, and saying, 'A friend.'

'I thought… I  _believed_ -'

'You were hurting. You still are, but he's not your enemy.'

'I told you the same thing,' mutters Alfred.

'Who was that?' asks Diana.

'Is there any privacy with you two around?'

'This is interesting,' says Alfred, and Batman cocks his head a little as he looks at the screen in his gauntlet and listens to something on his cowl's comms device.

'… Maybe it can still happen,' he mutters.

'What do you mean?' asks Diana, frowning.

'Look.'

* * *

_The island_

'How many times am I going to have to rescue your behind, Clark?' says the tall man as he helps Superman out of the crater.

'You love it, really,' says Superman, and he takes his cape from the man and wraps it around his shoulders.

'Ha! Come on, let's get you away from here.'

'Thanks, Arthur.' Superman picks up the lasso and wraps it along his arm.

'Thanks for saving the world. Again.'

'Anytime.'

'Yeah, you seem to be making a habit of it.'

'So do you.'

'Don't know what you're talking about, my friend. I'm just the son of a lighthouse keeper.'


	9. Chapter 9

_Undisclosed location_

Machines beep and hiss as Lex Luthor lies comatose. A bandage covers his head and he's attached to a respirator. A metallic door silently slides open and an aide, well-groomed and suited, steps into the room.

'Ma'am,' he whispers to Mercy, seated near the foot of the bed reviewing things on a tablet, 'the Board is getting restless and-'

Mercy looks at him, her lips pursed. 'When he's ready.'

'Yes, Ma'am.'

* * *

_Fawcett City_

Two dark-haired boys – both of whom had been at the charity auction as honorary guests of the Shugel Foundation – sit on a set of swings in a small park, kicking at the ground.

'Hey, Billy.'

'Hmm?'

'You think Superman would have been able to hurt Achilles?'

'Mr Beck's dog?'

'No, the guy in the stories. He was supposed to be invulnerable, right?'

'Except for his heel, sure.'

'So, could Superman hurt him?'

'Why would Superman even want to?'

'I dunno. Sometimes heroes fight, right?'

'Sometimes. But Achilles isn't real.'

'Yeah, but what if he was?'

* * *

_World's End Island_

Warships line an unspoken but agreed upon perimeter. Analysts and technicians on board each one check equipment and test air and water samples. Others attend to diving drones and assemble boring equipment and attachments.

'Radiation levels are ridiculously high,' is the consensus spoken in over a dozen languages. Smoke drifts through the air and the sky rumbles and sparks, seemingly at random. At slowly increasing intervals, the island heaves and the water boils and bubbles. No one decides to be the first to risk sending anyone any closer to the island.

* * *

_Metropolis - the apartment of Lois Lane and Clark Kent_

Clark sleeps. His breathing is shallow and his skin is tinted green around his mouth and eyes. His hand is gripped tightly to the glowing lasso, the only source of light in an otherwise dark room.

Lois and Martha sit in an adjoining room, steaming cups of tea and coffee sit on the table in front of them as, exhausted, they quietly watch the news together.

_Channel 52 News – Bethany Snow_

'It's been almost a week since Superman was last seen over World's End Island, and a lot of things seem to be crawling out of the woodwork. Gang violence  _across the world_  is up 18 percent and there's been an increase in military activity in several regions.

'Have we been taking the impact and influence of the Man of Steel for granted these past two years?

'And what of the Batman? Resurfacing after years being absent, and seemingly challenging Superman to a duel, only to then fight alongside him and, according to many, saving the world from 'Doomsday'.

'Further scattered sightings have been reported around Gotham and, curiously, at least fifteen people have handed themselves in for crimes committed, purportedly, during what Gothamite-bloggers have started calling 'The Exile Years'.

'And the creature that fought Superman so brutally? Electromagnetic interference on and around World's End Island has prevented anything being confirmed about its demise, according to various national and international agencies, but the question that is slowly falling to the side is 'where did it come from?' The failure to answer the question has fuelled a number of theories, with some leading to an increase in attendance to places of worship across the world.

'Briefly, in the financial news, share prices of LexCorp have fallen another 2 percent, with the fourth day of consecutive drops now impacting the valuations of several companies with close ties to the conglomerate this morning as CEO and philanthropist Lex Luthor continues to be, to put it mildly, absent without leave.'

Clark's eyes flutter and he takes in a breath.

* * *

_G Gordon Godfrey Has This To Say - webcast_

Sitting behind a desk again, Godfrey stares intently at the camera, his arms wide pushing down firmly on the wooden surface.

'Work continues in the stadium but it's not rescue-work anymore. They won't tell you that – no one is reporting it on the news. No one cares. People have forgotten.

'I care, though. I haven't forgotten.'

His shoulders relax and he brings his hands together in front of him and leans forward slightly.

'Every day, I reach out to those who have lost loved ones in The Scorching and offered them my shoulder and my ear. It is the least I can do but I am just one person and there are thousands of people suffering from that day.

'A day people have forgotten so quickly.

'Before, the question "where is Superman" was because we wanted to bring him to justice. We wanted answers only he could provide. The question was asked angrily and righteously. Now… now, it's asked because people want him back.

'In one breath, all is forgiven.

'Is that right, though? Are we so fickle that we cast aside the murder of thousands because a "beast" fell from the sky? Does that make what happened in The Scorching okay? Is that day a troublesome truth for some of you?

'Us. For some of us.

'I don't know about you, dear viewer, but I just cannot help thinking that it has been so convenient for Superman's role in all this to change from the Hunted to the Saviour.'

* * *

_Metropolis – the apartment of Lois Lane and Clark Kent_

Clark is seated on the sofa, bathed in sunlight, his legs stretched out and a thick blanket tucked under his arms. There is still a hint of green on his skin and he looks haggard, but he is otherwise healthy. Martha and Lois sit close by, clearly relieved and tired but still a little grey from all the worry. They each have mugs of a steaming drink cradled in their hands.

'So, what did you think of Arthur?' asks Clark, and he takes a sip from his mug.

'He's quieter than I thought he would be,' says Lois, and Martha nods in agreement. 'A little like you sometimes.'

'Me?' queries Clark, his brow creasing a little.

Martha looks at her mug, rests it on her thigh and turns it a little. 'Sometimes… when you're Clark, when you're not talking to me or Lois, sometimes you almost whisper. You can hear yourself and think others can, too.'

Clark's frown deepens a little as he considers Martha's reply, and he asks, 'When I'm on the job?'

'Asking questions?' says Lois. 'No,  _that's_  when you're there, in that moment. Coaxing the answers and framing your questions.' Her voice expresses her admiration for Clark's skill as a reporter, and then she says, 'Clark Kent the reporter isn't the same as Clark Kent by the coffee machine talking to Allie.'

'Sorry.'

'It's cute,' says Lois, and she shrugs a little.

'"Cute"?'

Lois nods and sips her coffee and Martha, loudly, gets up and makes her way over to the kitchen. Lois chuckles a little and moves onto the couch. The two of them sit quietly for a little while, and Clark looks over at his mother, now busying herself with chopping some vegetables. 'You had us so worried,' Lois says softly, as she reaches for the remote control and turns on the television.

'I'm sorry.'

She rolls her eyes, grabs Clark by his vest and pulls him towards her and they hug. The chopping sound from the kitchen falters for a second and then quickly continues.

'What are you going to do now?' she asks, as they draw back from their embrace.

'The world has changed and is still changing, and not all of it is good.'

'It's always been that way.'

'It has, but I think he was right when he said that my being here has created some sort of power vacuum.' He nods towards the television.

_'Violent clashes have erupted in cities across the world,'_  says the broadcaster.

'You can't police the world, Clark.'

'I never intended to, but I have changed things.' He takes another sip from his mug and looks over his shoulder and at a closed door. Golden light shines from around it. 'First things first, though,' he says, 'I need to return something,' and he winks at Lois and leans in for a quick kiss.

* * *

_First Church of Superman – webcast by Pastor Papp_

'By now, Brothers and Sisters, you will have seen the footage of our Deliverer  _saving the world!_  Like the tales of the fallen angels in Earth-faiths, The Bringer of Destruction first fell from the sky, bearing the face of nobility in a bid to fool those weak in faith into believing him to be our Lord. It's a warning found in many scriptures but not spoken of by The Redeemer as His faith in us granted us protection.

'We have seen our numbers swell, across the world, as His message and mercy reaches out and touches the hearts of those who had been doubting these past two years.

'He is here and He is with us.

'Brothers and Sisters, do not burden your hearts with shame for the doubts and questions you allowed to enter them when the Beast rained fire down on scores of innocent men, women, and children. That night was a trial by fire, and the Revelation after was your awakening.

'Brothers and Sisters, do not be haughty for being of those who held steadfastly to faith. Your trial is now and will continue.

'We have been blessed with this age of technology. We can see the truth immediately. We can receive answers to our questions in an instant. Yet the blessing can be subverted and we must guard ourselves against that.

'We must prepare.

'We must.'

* * *

_The Louvre, Paris_

In a room annexed to the restoration workshop, Diana steps back from the control panel of an outlandish-looking machine and looks at the large screen displaying an image of a battle scene. The colours are strange and dark and flicker as the programme continues to make the image clearer, but the battle is undoubtedly between a dozen armed women and a dozen armed men. On the side of the women are owls and deer that seem to be arranged around, and perhaps protecting, an island bathed in an otherly light, with the sun visible just a little closer to the side of the men. One of the men appears to be wearing the skin of a lion as a cape, with the top half of the lion's head clasped over the man's right shoulder.

'Is that supposed to be Hercules?' says a male voice.

'Heracles,' says Diana, not looking away from the image. 'Yes.'

'Right, Greek. Sorry.'

She smiles and shakes her head as she turns to look at the speaker. 'It's a common mistake, Mr Kent.'

'Clark. Please.' He adjusts his glasses and smiles widely.

'Clark.'

'I wanted to thank you for your help, and to return this.' He holds out a polished wood box engraved with a stylised 'W' and a star. 'I'm sorry it took a while.'

Diana gently takes the box from his hand. She brushes her fingers over the engravings, smiles, and holds the box a little closer to her chest. She nods at Clark and sets the box to one side. 'Bruce told me you… well, I knew you would get it back to me eventually. I'm glad you're okay.' She smiles again, this time as widely as Clark did a moment earlier, and gestures at the teapot on a small table nearby.

'I'd love some,' says Clark, and he draws back a chair for her and then takes a seat himself, and they talk.

* * *

_Channel 52 News_

'This just in:

'General Eiling has been cleared of the charges of treason and insurrection and has been reinstated in his role as director of the hitherto unknown Project Sunuria. While the President has declassified the name of the Project, no information has been provided as to what the group does, where it's based or who any of its administrators are.

'General Eiling commented as follows:

'"What I did, I did not just for my country but for the sake of our world.  _Our_  world. It was not an act of war but an act of defence, and I'm grateful this has all been resolved so quickly.

'"I hold no animosity against Secretary Swanwick. My actions put him in a difficult position and, had I been in his shoes, I likely would have done the same.

'"We all know that the world has changed and that it is still changing. I know that people agree that 'preparation is half the battle' and I think many have taken comfort in knowing that we are both prepared and  _resolved_  to protect our world from harm, both domestic and  _alien_."'

* * *

_Central City_

The second hand on a clock moves from twenty-five to twenty-six.

The young man who had been leaning against a road sign after the riot in Metropolis came to an abrupt end, paces around a laboratory. Three piles of different coloured folders are stacked neatly on a desk and a series of experiments are being conducted at various workstations. The man stops at each experiment for a couple of seconds, scribbles a note, and moves to the next one.

The second hand on a clock moves from twenty-six to twenty-seven.

* * *

_The Batcave_

The Batmobile screeches to a halt in the middle of a circular platform, and steam and the smoke of burnt rubber clouds the air around the purring vehicle. The platform turns and rises up to a walkway. Batman hops out with a grunt and touches his ribs tentatively. He grits his teeth and tugs off his cowl.

'I'm getting slow in my old age,' he says, casually.

'Even you got too old to die young,' says Alfred, somewhere out of sight. 'Not for lack of trying.'

'They seem more stubborn than last time,' Batman mutters.

'Quite,' says Alfred, as he walks towards an empty worktop and sets down a tray laden with food. 'I must say, you've made considerable progress with the cold cases.'

Bruce shakes his head dismissively. 'They were easy ones and should never have been cold.'

'Do you think the GCPD-'

'No, Bullock runs a tight ship. They were just… overwhelmed.'

'So, your return is definitely temporary?'

'It's necessary.'

'Never a straight answer,' mutters Alfred.

A screen flashes red and both men stare at it.

'That's not possible,' breathes Alfred.

'It is if it's him,' growls Bruce.

They turn and look towards the far end of the massive cave and, seconds later, Superman drifts out of the shadows, his cape covering his shoulders and arms. The screen continues flashing red until Batman presses something on utility belt.

Alfred stands a little taller and says, 'May I present to you… Superman.'

Bruce glares at Alfred and Superman smiles as he sets his foot onto the platform. 'I apologise for intruding like this, but I felt we had to talk.' He steps forward and nods at Alfred. Alfred returns the nod and, discreetly, steps away.

'About?' growls Bruce.

'The future. The way forward. Us.'

'"Us"?'

Superman steps forward again and surveys the cave with a glance. His eyes widen a little when he sees the giant coin and the life-size Tyrannosaurus Rex. 'Neither of us can go it alone, Bruce. The world's too big and too complicated.'

'It's not as if you've made things any easier.'

'I know. I tried but-'

'"The road to Hell," Kent. Maybe that's what your father tried to warn you about, in his own way.'

Superman nods and says, 'Maybe, but as others have said, "evil wins when good men do nothing".'

'Do you still consider yourself to be "good"?'

'Don't you?'

Bruce harrumphs and shakes his head. 'Look around us, Clark. I gave myself a mission to stop people from going through what I did that night I lost my parents; instead, I ended up breaking people and punishing them, and making them afraid.'

Superman raises his hand and then lowers it, clenching his fist for a couple of seconds. 'It wasn't always like that, and you know it. You've saved countless lives over the years. Inspired so many people.'

'Inspired them to what? Leap off buildings? Sacrifice their happiness? Take a bullet for a murderer?'

'To be good. To be the best they could be.'

'And nothing changed.'

'Everything changed, Bruce. Bit by bit. And everything does.'

Bruce watches as Clark walks around the work area.

'What's all this about, Clark? Why are you here?'

'It's about trust.'

'And why should I trust you?'

'Why shouldn't you? Still, since you're still choosing not to, then perhaps this can help us start on that path.' His cape parts as he raises his arms and holds out a canister the size of a small fire extinguisher.

'And this would be?'

'The last of the Kryptonite.'

'You named it?'

'A thing needs a name.'

'Why would you give it to me?' Bruce looks over at Alfred standing to one side, setting a table.

'Because, at the end of the day, with what we've seen and been through in such a short space of time, with what  _you've_  seen and been through over all these years, I want the thing that can stop me to be in the hands of someone I know I can trust with my life.'

'You think you'll need to be stopped?'

'I think we need to be ready but hope that it will never happen.'

'"Hope."' Bruce repeats the word and takes the canister from Superman's hands. '"Hope",' he says again, and then he places the container on a worktop. 'Come with me, I want to show you something.' He looks over and Alfred again. 'Alfred?'

'Sir?'

'You should come, too.'

Curious, Alfred sets down the tea he had poured and follows Bruce and Clark. They walk along a footbridge and into a small antechamber lined with costumes. Most of them are 'Batman' costumes, torn and tattered or riddled with holes, but some are for Gotham's other heroes. Ones who are no longer active. There is a series of Robin costumes and a couple of dark-coloured ones with blue markings.

'Nightwing,' says Clark, stunned and awed by what he is seeing.

Alfred steps forward and, standing next to Superman, says, 'After meeting you – saving you – he decided he had grown out of being Robin. He decided to be "Nightwing". He couldn't explain it, he just knew that there was something about the name.'

'I read the articles back then,' says Clark, 'but I couldn't bring myself to come back to Gotham. To talk to you. To talk to him. He said that name when he saw me but I didn't know what it meant or why he said it.'

'Master Dick was a circus boy and he had heard tales of wonder and adventure long before Master Bruce took him under his wing.'

Bruce, eyebrow raised, shakes his head, and Alfred smiles, ignoring the reaction to his little joke.

'Tales of strong men who could shatter chains with a shrug or hold up an elephant above their head, and of boys as fast as the wind and untouchable by flame.

'Before he took on the name, and before I helped him make his first suit, he showed me his scrapbook. He showed me this.'

Alfred presses his palm onto a panel and drawer clicks open. Intrigued, Bruce steps forward. He frowns a little as Alfred takes out a thick scrapbook and places it on the edge of the open drawer. The spine of the book cracks as Alfred slowly opens it and turns it towards Clark. Inside the book, on pages labelled with the names of small towns in the Mid-West, are newspaper clippings.

Gently, Clark picks up the book and looks through some of the pages. 'These are… they're all about me. From years ago.'

'He told me he heard stories about a strong boy wandering the country, appearing at random and righting wrongs, so every town and city the circus visited he would take the time to go to the local library and look for articles like these.'

'This is before?' Bruce asks, his voice croaking a little. He starts taking off his gauntlets and gloves.

Alfred nods and says, quietly, 'It was one of the few things he brought with him when you took him in.'

'When… when I found out I could run faster than an F1 car, I decided to explore. It was little things at first, like dashing over to a nearby town and having a wander. Escaping from things at school. A kid walked into the street in Emporia, near a post office, and I pulled her to safety but I moved a little faster and a little farther than I should have.' He turns a couple of pages and shows them an article. 'They found her a couple of miles away. I hid away but kept an eye on her until they found her. She told them a laughing boy had saved her. I was laughing because I was so scared.'

Bruce, carefully, takes the book from him and starts looking through the pages.

'The fire in the truck stop,' says Clark, 'the would-be bank robbers in Abilene, the exploding tyre in Derby. None of these things made the news. I mean, the small local paper, sure, but that was it.'

'But he found them,' says Bruce.

'And you inspired him,' says Clark.

Bruce shakes his head a little. 'He was one of the best men I ever knew, and as much as Alfred had a hand in guiding him to a lighter path, it's clear, now, that you showed him something, too. When he saw the story from your world, when he saw  _you_  and recognised you, he became something more.'

'I never got to talk to him,' says Clark, quietly. 'Never got to tell him how much I admired him. All of you.'

'I think,' says Bruce, slowly closing the book, 'I think you two would have been great friends.' He smiles at Clark as he gives the book back to Alfred.

'And  _I_  think,' says Alfred, as he places the book back in the drawer, 'that you two could be friends, too.'

After a light meal prepared by Alfred, Clark and Bruce, dressed in civilian clothes, walk down the dark stone steps and back into the Batcave.

'You know we can't do this alone,' says Bruce. 'Just the two of us.'

'So, what do you suggest?'

'Diana, for starters.'

'Wonder Woman,' says Clark, and Bruce frowns. Clark shrugs, 'It's what the media's calling her.'

'They come up with the most ridiculous names.'

Clark starts to say something but then stops himself and says, as Bruce activates some screen, 'She's in. I spoke to her earlier.'

Busying himself with the computer, Bruce says, 'So, she has her lasso again.'

'Who else?' Clark prods.

Bruce's voice shifts to a raspier tone as he steps back from the control panel. 'I've been looking.'

Half a dozen screens display Arthur. One has him helping Superman into the ocean, another shows them both on a pier in Metropolis.

'Ah,' says Clark, looking a little embarrassed, 'you know about Arthur then?'

'After he pulled you from the island, how could I not? He was also in Shugel's notes.'

'He's a good man, but he'll take some convincing.'

'I'm starting to think you believe everyone is good.'

'Everyone has the capacity to be.'

'Hnh'

'I want to meet the rescuer from the stadium. From the protest.'

'"Rescuer"?'

'He moved over a thousand people out of the path of the beam. Disarmed scores of rioters.'

'There were reports of people saying they had been moved, but-'

'Nothing on any of the active cameras, I know. I can see things you can't.'

'Hnh.'

'He's a CSI, so maybe you might find you have something in common.'

'Since when did you become a detective?'

* * *

_Military Prison - Antarctica_

General Eiling steps into a cell and nods at the guard to close the door behind him. Sitting on a cot, glaring at the television screen embedded in the wall opposite, a man clenches and unclenches his fists. He glances over at Eiling and snarls a little before turning his attention back to the television.

'Awfully  _convenient_  the way things went down,' says Eiling, casually.

'Convenient?'

'That there just  _happened_  to be another Kryptonian… a  _monster_ -'

'Why are you here, General?' snarls the prisoner.

'Isn't it obvious? I have a deal.'

The prisoner snorts and grunts and shakes his head. 'No deal is going to get me out of here.'

'Of course it will, Zmeck. Of course it will.'

* * *

Deep in the ocean, deeper than any manned vessel has yet to go, and deeper than the light of the sun can penetrate, sea life rushes in panic. Predator and prey swim alongside each other, ignoring their hunger and fear and focusing only on getting away.

If someone was to track them back they would find them all fleeing from a length of seabed that had been unmoved for thousands of years. A vast area that had long been dormant.

The movement is casual here and causes no stirring of the surface waters but an alarm goes off in a hidden city somewhere in the depths of the Atlantic Ocean. No one notices.

Purple starfish of all sorts of sizes cover the faces of the slower sea life

Miles above, if the right filters are used, an eye can be seen… hundreds of miles long.

It blinks.

* * *

_S.T.A.R. Labs off-site resource facility, outskirts of Metropolis_

Victor Stone, submerged in a thick liquid, floats in a large vertical tube. He seems to be asleep and half his face is covered in shadow. A metallic overall covers his body and wires and tubes are attached to him on various parts of his body.

Words appear on a small screen but there are no spaces between them.

_It hurts, Dad. It hurts so much. I keep forgetting. I keep forgetting things but then I remember and I look and I find the memory again. It hurts, Dad. It hurts so much._

Another screen displays images. Most of them seem to be from a first-person perspective. The images shift and appear to be streaming strings of code in a myriad of colours.

_There's so much to learn, Dad. It's all out there and I can see it. I can see so many things._

Thousands of images flash across the screen and then there is a grey darkness that slowly shifts from the grey to a soft green and then a tender purple before shifting back to the grey.

_I don't know why I'm following this but something is calling to me, Dad. Something. Something sleeping._

_Sleeping._

An image of a small baby appears. Its skin is tinted green.

It's curled up, its eyes are closed and it is in the foetal position. It turns in the air, rotating around nothing.

_Hello? Hello?_

The 'baby' rotates again and then its eyes open and it looks at him. Three small discs glow on its forehead.

Victor's eyes snap awake, wide with fear, and he jerks around in the tube, panicked. There is a hiss a blue liquid is fed into him through one of the tubes.

_Brainiac!Brainiac!Brainiac!_

* * *

_Metropolis Stadium_

Superman floats down to the perimeter of the ruined stadium. Rescue workers and other personnel pause and watch him descend and heavy machinery rumbles, idle.

A couple of supervisors and police officers hurry over to him.

'Is something happening?' asks one of the supervisors, breathlessly.

'Do we have to evacuate?' asks one of the officers.

Superman shakes his head and looks, solemnly, at the flowers and pictures and toys that make up the memorial that has been set up just outside the perimeter.

'I'm here to help.'


End file.
